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SPLASHING INTO 
SOCIETY 


SPLASHING INTO 
SOCIETY 

BY 

IRIS BARRY J 

\\ 



NEW YORK 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 

681 Fifth Avenue 









Copyright, 1923 

By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 


All Rights Reserved 


TZ-a 

.I’.'*'* 



/ 



Printed in the United States of America 


OCT -6 1923 J 

©C1A7C0108 

'V' V 



■HM< 


CHAPTER ONE 



S uch were the stranes that smote the air 
as Mr. Harold Withersquash drew near 
to the humbel home of his Selia. She 
was just a low bom girl but none could beat 
her at playing the piano. 

Mr. Withersquash mutered: “She will 
do,” and wrapt the door with a clatter. 

Now Selia's ma had shortly done her days 
wash, being Tuesday, and she came and 
opened the door in a forbidable stile, not be¬ 
ing in the best of moods. 

1 































Splashing into Society. 


“What is it now?” snapt she at our hero, 
and sniffled in her nose, for she was a rum lady 
and corshus as well as cross. 

“All, good-morning, good-morning,” lisped 
Mr. Withersquash in rather a sloppy mode for 
to make no mystery she had cut the land from 
his feet by her plane ways. 

“Selia!” the good woman borled, “Come 
on out and never mind your hair-curlers, it’s 
only young Withersquash again.” She knew 
no better than to be so plane, not having ed- 
ducation. 

“Dezist moddam,” cried Mr. Withersquash, 
“and list. My unckle Burt is dead!” 

“Him dead, well I never!” the chaste ample 
matron readied with a kindly twist at her 
handsom broch of platted hares, “What ever 
next!” 

But now the delicious Selia pushed past her 
ma’s elbow, she was a fair rose of Briton, 
rather false hair like we see advertised, her 

2 


Splashing into Society, 


somewhat perfect nose would scarse be 
noticed to have been turned up, owing to 
sleeping on her stomache, and she wore a nice 
dress of white embrery, a good few broches 
and some yellow stockings. 

“Your unckle dead?” she asked. 

Mr. Withersquash grappling her hand in 
fierce welcome of joy, replied: “Yes, and he 
has left me a good bit.” 

“Ah, Harold!” cried our young heroine 
pushing more forward, “are you in truth 
rich?” 

“Well, not so bad,” our little gentleman 
replied. “I am quite well to do.” 

Selia’s ma now stept off to think this news 
over. 

“Go on!” uttered Selia in amaze. 

“True as I stand here,” ansered Mr. 
Withersquash making himself very important. 

“Well, what of it?” said she, for if Selia 
had a motto it was no nonsense. 


3 


Splashing into Society 

“Well,” he said, “I thought as you and me 
are a bit third class why not lets go to some 
places and get into socierty and have a run for 
our money,” and he slapt his manly bosom, 
although that was only his way, for he was but 
a paltry figure as see in the illustrations, and 
emploid at the ffyod. bazaar, nuff said. 

“When shall we start?” said Selia, after she 
had pondered speedily, for she was one to 
loose no time. 

“Ah, you will dane to come, will you?” 
cried the joyous Mr. Withersquash, and he 
added: “We might perhaps get wed later on, 
eh?” with a meaning wink. 

“Ma, ma!” cried Selia tripping within. 
“Mr. Withersquash and me are going off to 
get into socierty, pray pack my attire,” for 
Selia was always nice in her speech when folks 
were about. 

While her Ma packed a bag, the young pair 
chatered together while Selia wrote a few 

4 


Splashing into Society 


notes to the boys by way of regret, for she was 
a popular girl, and Mr. Withersq stuck the 
stamps on. 

It was a largish bag in which her Ma 
packed her garments, which had been good in 
its time, and she put in a nightdress very litel 
soiled as the washing was not yet aired not to 
say ironed, still it had some ribbons in. Also 
she slipped in a nice toothbrush with green 
jelly handle, some smelling sope with flannel 
for the neck, and an amusing book to read in 
bed, entittled Peep of Day as even she knew 
that it is very smart to read a bit in bed. 

“Fare well, my child/’ she uttered with a 
tear or two yet smiling at the offspring of her 
lions. “And maybe you’ll have changed your 
name when we meet again. There’s as good 
fish in the sea, you know what I mean,” adding 
a sidefaced skowl at Mr. Withersq who truth 
to say she didnt set much store by, nor Selia 
neither at that time. But the ma thought if 

5 


Splashing into Society 


her girl could only get out into socierty all 
would be well. 

Off they went with a wave of the hand to 
the adventers in our next. 


6 


CHAPTER TWO 


IT There in deauce shall we start?” said 

\/ %/ Mr. Withersq when they got 
round the corner. “We might 
suitably have a taxi to start off with.” 

“Indeed yes,” simpered Selia as to the 
manner born, with a good pull at her garters, 
at which the perfunctery Mr. Withersq ran 
into the road and he soon found a fresh¬ 
looking taxi. The driver was rather a kindly 
man with frizzled beard. 

“Now my man, drive us about through some 
smart places,” said our hero, blowing in his 
cheeks and breathing, but he really felt rather 
little because of not yet knowing his way about 
the town. 

“How would you care for an airing around 

7 






Splashing into Society 


Kensington, for that is a good part my lord,” 
said the taxi man. 

Mr. Withersq replied “Certenly, certenly, 
my good man,” and with a wink of glee at each 
other he and his dear wench Selia popped into 
the motor. 

“What a whiz,” yelled Mr. Withersq as 
they poured through the streets. 

When they arrived in Kensington, Mr. 
Withersq tossed the man some money in 
silver very lordly, so he drove off highly 
gratifyed. 

They had a look round. 

“This is a bit slow,” said Selia, “I dont 
think this is hardly society. Where we live is 
very like, only less dogs and the prams not so 
sparkly.” For on every side beneath the trees 
spanking nurses trundled smart prams tidily 
followed by neatly brushed dogs. It was in¬ 
deed smart, but of rather a nursery sort, and 
not what our pair were out after. 

8 


Splashing into Society 


Indeed things are a bit slow in Kensing¬ 
ton,” replyed Mr. Withersq. “I tell you 
what,” he went on, “we might go to a party.” 

“We do not know any,” said Selia, she was 
a bit waxy with the vexation and her shoes 
had a stone in. 

“You know my brother?” asked Mr. 
Withersq in a honey tone. 

“Such folly” snapt Selia, “he isnt the class 
to know any partys!” 

“Ah,” blushed our hero with a smile, 
“that’s were your wrong, for he cleans for the 
best, so there.” 

“What of it” she snapt, “once a window- 
cleaner always a window-cleaner, and you 
know well enough that such as him dont go 
to partys.” 

“This is what of it,” snortled he, for truth to 
tell he little liked her scorn. “This is what of 
it. My brother tells me there’s a monstrous 
party tonight at where he cleaned yesterday, 

9 


Splashing into Society 


with tittled ladys in galore and knites and 
what not for the asking, not forgetting 
writers and painters and such like.” 

“We might try our luck,” said Selia feeling 
a bit put down, so on they stept to Soho and 

egerly ran into H-Street. When they 

got there, it was the house where Mr. Wither- 
squashes brother had cleaned, and there was a 
piece of spotted carpet out on the footwark, 
and you ran up it to the door. The door was 
opened and they went in. Selia settled her hat 
on the stares, it was one of those kind that 
slip and sniggle your hair which is so vexing 
as it was rather too large, being a real Paris 
shapoh left behind by one of her ma’s lodgers. 

O what a bozz of merry crowds from above. 
O what a time for our little heros, but Selia 
muttered in her throte: “Such is not for any 
likes of us.” Even the galant Mr. Wither- 
squash was half making off, until slapping the 
cash in his trouzers pockets with a fine rattel, 

10 



Splashing into Society 


he tucked Selia’s elboe in his, and burst into 
the room. The babbel ceased, all eyes glowed 
upon them. 

“My name is Withersquash and this young 
lady is Selia,” he cried very loud. “My unckel 
Burt is dead, he has left me a good bit. Is it 
all right?” 

“Oh how charming,” cried the assembly in 
shrilly tones and all pressed forward to stare 
closer. 

They were indeed fine. The ladys in all 
manners of colours chiefly oringe and green 
idly sipped up rich wine from some mugs, 
many smoked without a stop, there were arms 
and backs and fronts all bare, some frocks 
with tails to them, and some dames wore 
trouzer things, very bright and sloppy, much 
to Mr. Withersquashes surprise. Several 
kinds of men were dotted about, some in eve¬ 
ning close, some like soldiers and many with 
long locks or pale fat face as though in grief 

11 


Splashing into Society 


which were the artists. The walls however 
were done up very high class in coloured 
paints and not at all how you would expect in 
gentlepeoples places. Such were the scene 
and the lights were low. 

4 ‘And how much did your dead unckle 
leave ?” kindly asked a magnificent man of 
foreign stile. 

“Oh a few millions,” replied Mr. Wither- 
squash. 

At that the assembly seemed quite cordiel 
and all pressed forward to shake hands. A 
gent in kaki drew Selia to a well-stuffed couch 
altho eyeing her white embrey dress in amaze 
and embracing her politely began to have a 
nice chat. Mr. Withersq on the other hand 
when he saw it was the thing, after a litel also 
embrased a few of the lushous women one by 
one, but now and then he gave a good wink of 
glee over their shoulders to Selia. 


12 


Splashing into Society 


“Ha, ha,” he thought to himself. “Money 
always talks.” 

Now the gent who had asked Mr. Withersq 
how much his unckle left came up to the sofa 
on which Selia sat, and leaning on its stuffed 
arm, bent and smiled in her eye. 

For this the gent in kaki frowned aside, 
gnawing his lip for he had little or no 
moustache to do it with. 

“You have the advantage of me!” cried 
Selia coyly to this new face, to which the 
foreign newcomer replied in a damp voice: 
“I am Tzpcham, the times plastick avetar.” 

“How nice!” replied Selia, brightly, at 
which he smiled faintly, so she felt they were 
getting on. She was always one to want to 
quickly pick up the tricks was Selia. 

“My name is Selia,” she added, with a soft 
giggle for his sake. 

But now a dazzling noble with diamond 


13 


Splashing into Society 


studs and slippery shoes in a hard-boiled front 
like you see in laundrys came up murmuring 
“Pleasure!” and then gripping Selia round the 
back, stood her on her feet. Once more the 
gramyphone struck up, and they began to jig 
about to its notes, as happily Selia guest when 
stood on her feet that this was the thing to do. 
She could not dance very well, but it did not 
matter as there was little room to do more than 
shuffel. 

“Isnt she charming,” cried the ladys which 
made Mr. Withersq burn with pride. Not to 
be outdone he seezed the largest lady round 
the centre. She had a silk stocking tied round 
her head, which is very smart for evening wear, 
and they began to have a bit of a caper also, 
and cries of approval arose in a polite way 
from all assembeled. 

“What a pant!” yelled Mr. Withersq, but 
he kept at it, knowing that to dance was the 
craze of the hour. Round and round they 

14 


Splashing into Society 


went, and more and more coi^les joined in 
until all jammed together they trudged and 
shuffled to the music in the hot room. 

When they at last stopt all out of breath 
and gasping, the lights got a bit lower and the 
largest lady what he had since popt on a chair 
got up and stood in the centre of the room but 
all the others sat down on the floor or the 
sofars and lapped up some more wine to take 
the dust out of their throats. 

The fat lady now undid her flowing cape 
and dropped it down, very lighthearted, 
draped as she was in a quantity of muslin, 
rather limp perhaps, hut striking, and then she 
took off her slippers, and already having no 
stockings on was now barefoot and began to 
dance and show off in the middel of the room, 
tied round the haunch with gold stuff, and 
waggeled and bobbed herself about to the 
notes of the gramafone. 

15 


Splashing into Society 


“Ecquisist,” howled the crowd of lovely 
folk, “What form divine!” 

“What is she at?” growled Mr. Withersq 
for to tell the truth he felt a bit queer, this 
being in the nature of a surprise, and hoping 
that tills was not a thing to copy, not feeling 
too sure of the last time he washed his feet. 

“Hussssh!” hissed a shriveled dowager 
beside him, “it is her art.” 

Now the fat lady at last ceased dancing and 
sank down, and a beaky-nosed sort of gentle¬ 
man cried out: “Our newly-come friend 
Withersq does not seem to understand.” 

“Dont be a soft!” cried Selia, for she had 
guest he had put his foot in it by his remark, 
remembering what her ma had taught her that 
no true ladys and gentlemen ever took notice 
or seemed amazed but took things as in a 
dream without saying much. 

Now while all this turmoil went on, the 
ladys cried several times “How two to!” and 

16 


Splashing into Society 


“Arent they two sweet?” and “Oh, wo!” like a 
perfect choir, which Selia and Mr. Withersq 
hardly knew how to take. 

The sharpnosed gent before long rose to his 
feet with a bored sniff. 

“Art, my dear friend, is but a long sigh for 
the beautiful and great,” he drorled, and 
bursting into tears he left the room and was 
seen no more, and the ladys said he was 
charming too. 

Selia now ventured to wisper to the young 
person beside her on the floor: “Why did he 
cry? What has he done wrong?” 

“Oh, dont ask me, I am only a meer 
countess and no nothing of artists and their 
ways,” this beauty replied with an haughty 
smirk. 

“I see,” politely said Selia, although she did 
not really, but feeling very improved to be on 
speaking terms with a countess so soon. 

And now came another nice little event. 

17 


Splashing into Society 


The man Tzpcham having quaft several bouts 
of the costly wines sudenly stept forward 
tossing back his hairs and then like a conjurer 
he pulled from his coat a thing like a football 
stuck on one side of a plate, only all made in 
one out of stone, and it was really a statue. It 
was a surprise for Selia and Mr. Withersq, as 
they had only seen statues before that were 
like people. 

“It is my latest,” cried Tzpcham, and the 
brite ladys and the men bent and cooed round 
it making noises of pleasure. 

“All art is the round getting the best of the 
plain/’ said he then in a gloomy way shaking 
his head. 

“How too true!” cried Selia gushingly, for 
she was a quick girl and had picked up this 
smart saying by now, and drew murmurs of 
admiration from all beholders. 

By this time of night, all the assembly had 
drunk many drinks and so very soon they lay 

18 


Splashing into Society 


down in ordely heaps and pairs on the floor or 
the sofars to sleep it off, and when Selia and 
Mr. Withersquash had said their prayers they 
lay down too, Selia with her head softly rested 
on her bag, and dropped quickly off to sleep 
very well pleased with the way they had got 
on, and that was the end of the party. 


19 


—m—»«—mi—»u—nn—mi—mi—wii-rw—mi—mi_Mii—mi—mi—nn——mi—mi—u»i—wi—wi—i 

CHAPTER THREE 


I n the morning it was Selia that woke Mr. 
Withersq. 

“Come on Harold,” she said rising from 
her makeshift couch, “we know some art now, 
lets make a move.” 

“My pet,” cried the delited Mr. Withersq, 
“You have called me Harold. Ah me ah me 
how fondly I love your charms,” and so he 
picked up Selia’s bag, and they went out 
stepping over the countess and ran into the 
street. Selia still a little red from her blush at 
Mr. Withersquashes warm words of passion. 

“What about a bit of food?” she said to 
change the subject. 

“Ah, now I will give you a fair treet,” cried 
Mr. Withersq brindling with glee, “for 

20 





Splashing into Society 


indeed I love you at last Selia and you shall 
ate of the best now Unckle Burt is dead.” 

“Pray how shall such as us know where to 
eat of the best?” scoffed Selia lightly for she 
had yet to learn how to treet a good noble man 
with properness. 

“Now dont be snappy,” said Mr. Withersq 
who was not to be put down so easily. “It was 
a baroness herself last night who asked me if 
I offen went to the Mauve Loft, and she said 
it was ripping, so not so much of your scorn if 
you please.” So you see even our devoted Mr. 
Withersq could turn, which is not to be sur¬ 
prised at seeing he had unbroken his fast. 

“What is the Mauve Loft?” snapped Selia, 
“what kind of a place I ask. Fletchers I 
know, and the Dad goes to Pirn’s when he 
back’s a good ’un, but what is a Loft? Tell 
me that!” 

“It is where you eat if you are smart” re¬ 
sponded her Harold. “Y r ou should know by 

21 


Splashing into Society 


now that the upper ten call their eating places 
by names, like dogs or pubs. Have you not 
yet heard of the ‘Spotted Eel?’ at Chelsy? 
Nor the ‘Monkey Puzzel’ at the Scrubs? 
Tush, Selia, pull your socks up my good girl.” 

They strode forward in glassy silence. 

When they got there it was over some 
stable-places in Piccadilly and they went up 
the ladder and tapt. A totally black nigger 
let them in and bowed, and they entered and 
Mr. Withersq giggled the cash in his trowsers 
for all he was worth as was by now his lucky 
custom. 

It was a terrific abode painted a purpel 
colour which looked very nice. And across 
the mantelpece was printed very big 

LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS 

which I think is from Shakespeare. 

There was hundreds and dozens of waiters 
all totally black teeming about the room, and 

22 


Splashing into Society 


all along the floor stood a great tabel like in 
pictures of the last supper. Many smart peo¬ 
ple sat rather sprawly at it and listened to the 
words of a man very similar looking to those 
Mr. Withersq and Selia had beholded the 
night before at the party. And meanwhile 
they chewed their food. Also several young 
ladys some soberly in round black specs but 
some also a bit dashing with scarlet lips and 
several oldish ones too, all lolled on the table 
on elbows and smoking like chimneys. 

As our coupel entered they turned of 
course and had a good stare but said nothing, 
not knowing them. Nothing abashed Mr. 
Withersq beckoned a couple of black waiters 
to bring the food list which they did. 

He chose a good few of the dearest things, 
trusting to be correct, and they sat down at 
the foot of the table, hoping to chum up 
quickly. 

The waiters brought first some halfs of 

23 


Splashing into Society 


fruits like lemons only bigger on plates but 
Selia hated hers and popt it under the tabel. 

“Bring me some grilled kidneys and look 
sharp,” she commanded very grandly. 

Now all this time she and Mr. Withersq 
had been shuffling on their seats and making a 
few friendly grimaces toward the large party 
lower down the tabel, and doing such tricks 
as half smiles and looking as if they were go¬ 
ing to nod in a tick. Yet the cold hump was 
all they got from that crowd gathered around 
the faint-looking man in the centre. 

“You cant hardly say we’re making much 
of a hit here,” said Selia crossly: “You should 
have said your unckle Burt was dead. Try 
and get the nasty stuck up lot to talk, wont 
you?” 

So at this Mr. Withersq mustered his heart 
up a bit and rapt on the tabel with a spoon 
until all looked towards him. “Hallo” he said 
to them all. “My unckle Burt being dead has 

24 


Splashing into Society 


left me a few millions so why not be sports and 
churn up, eh?” 

Oh what an icy bath our little friends then 
got from the stares of those ladys and men. 

“I am Boom,” said the faint-looking man 
stroking his long hair with unction. “I do not 
think you are one of us. You do not under¬ 
stand.” 

“O come!” cried our hero, getting his back 
up a bit although Selia was tramping on his 
feet under the festive board’s legs. “We are 
quite new to the game, I know, but for all that 
we know a countess or two. Be a sport old 
chappy. Let me tell the blackie to get you a 
coffee if you dont care for anything stronger.” 

He thought those were two safe things to 
say, but he was also puzzeled by their looks 
towards him and more towards Selia whose 
rayment was so utterly not like theirs, and 
more so that her white robe was a bit dashed- 
looking with the rough night she had had. 

25 


Splashing into Society 


“Ah,” cried the young ladies in a voice like 
pidgeons, and the old ladies and the man. 
“How balderdash!” And they turned their 
faces away. 

Selia let fall a scalding tear and ordered 
some pooched eggs to keep up her strength. 
At which Mr. Boom and his attending ladies 
got up hortily and stamped out very conseated 
which upset our couple largely. 

“Bear up sir,” cried a black waiter kindly. 
“It is only their way being a school of poetr} 7 .” 

“Oh,” cried Selia blowing her nose, “I 
would like to go to such a school, wouldnt you, 
Harold, though not to their nasty stuck up 
one, eh?” 

“In sooth, yes,” he answered with effer- 
vessence. “It would be very useful to us I am 
sure, to deal with such strumpets and aristoc¬ 
racy.” 

“Ah, sir, if you will excuse me,” put in the 
waiter now beaming like a holy angel with his 

26 


Splashing into Society 


sooty features. “You will soon be all right. 
There are just the little matters like eating 
and that which are very catchy and the right 
words to say.” 

You see this lot thats just gone out are all 
very artful people, who speak to no one but 
print little books of their poems all the while, 
and wont sell them to anybody at all, and that 
makes them very slippery customers to deal 
with, as no one knows what they are really at, 
and mean too,” he added, looking beneath their 
plates where a solitary sixpence graced the 
deserted board. 

“Take that my good negro” cried Mr. 
Withersq sloping a green paper money in his 
quaintly coloured palm. 

So when they had looked up an address in 
the book, they set out for a nice school where 
to learn poetry and so climb. 


27 


—■—»■—KB—w—«—««—at— im^— im—mi—m—nu—in—mi—— un— iiu^— an—™— 

CHAPTER POUR 


T here was the bust of a dog in the front 
yard of the school of poetry and the 
door was pink. 

“You ask,” said Harold Withersq to Selia 
his love. “For this is a bit of a treat for you,” 
so she rang the brass bell and got her mouth 
ready to pop the question to the serving maids. 
A grand old woman in a white pinny came and 
ox3ened. 

“Pray conduct us to your owner,” said 
Selia in a wonderful chic voice. “We have 
come to join the school.” 

The woman showed them into a white hall 
with two rows of littel coloured pictures 
painted on glass of chinamen and tigers very 
bright and instructing hung all down the 
sides. Mr. Withersq now puffed himself out 

28 




Splashing into Society 


ready for the encounter. The old lady bobbed 
on before them down the white hall to a large 
chamber like a chapel with gold-edged pic¬ 
tures, some of Nude in galore, and twenty 
grown up young people sat in desks in this 
hall, scribbling on slates under the watching 
eye of a bald man mounted up on a littel plat¬ 
form at the top. All the bottom on his face 
was beard and his mouth made you laugh 
when he talked like looking at a person’s 
mouth talking upside down. And he had 
glasses with brown rims and ear-bits very cost¬ 
ly and wise looking. 

The twenty pupils raised their heads and 
stared. 

Mr. Withersq stept boldly up to the 
teacher and laid a pound note on his desk. 

“I have been insulted,” he cried waving his 
arms a little though not much out of respect, 
“my unckle Burt is dead and has left me a 
good bit. This is my girl Selia.” 

29 


Splashing into Society 


Selia gave a bow and muttered pleased to 
meet you. 

“We are seeing life,” Mr. Withersq went 
on after this little interruption. ‘‘We have 
been to a party and danced and slept with the 
very creme of London, baronnesses and what 
not, and yet not an hour ago I was insulted. 
The creture that is called Boon gave me the 
bird and my Selia too, because he is so proud 
to be a poet. Make me a poet, make my lady 
a poet too if you can, and I will pay you well 
and pay them out.” 

“That will do,” said the teacher. “You 
arent allowed to have quarrels before you’ve 
been printed so you both sit down and see what 
you can do.” 

So they sat down both and had a stare at the 
others. They were again mostly like the be¬ 
ings at the party, but more younger men very 
drooping in figgur and unshorn heads, some of 


30 


Splashing into Society 


whom munched drugs out of boxes while they 
worked, to keep their spirits up. 

“They look a bit half-baked,” Selia re¬ 
marked to Mr. Withersq and drew a frown 
from the teacher. 

“Write me now a good poem to the bakers 
horse” shouted he from his littel platform 
tossing slates to Selia and Mr. Withersq and 
all present began to scribble and squeek on 
the slates at which the good teacher pluckt 
hairs from his beard and smiled in a nodding 
sort of way like a grandma. Selia and Harold 
gave a sorry look at each other not knowing 
how to put bakers horses into poetry and 
thinking up till then that poetry was all rich 
like creamy cakes with love and nobel roman 
deaths for the schools they had went to taught 
nothing else. So they dotted down a few 
words hoping to pass in the crush. 

Selia wrote:— 


31 


Splashing into Society 


Oh horse of the daily baker 
What brings bread, 

I prefer your litel rolls 
With hot butter. 

Have you your blinkers 
Because of a secret 

Or to keep the oats ears from your 
wet eves 

When you munch in your nosebag? 
Why is that 
Oh horse? 
and left it at that. 

The other pupils were scratching away on 
every side and she began to have douts and 
very likely as not she ought to have gone to a 
lower class but the teacher had guest by the 
air of her hat that she knew more than she did. 

“Isn’t this a go?” whispered Mr. Withersq 
to her. “I cant half write poems, Selia, you 
just wait,” for he guest he had put his foot on 
the road to success. 


32 


Splashing into Society 


“How perfect dear Harold” she whispred 
a bit madly for she had made a mess of it 
herself. “You can indeed shine before the 
duchesses and perhaps that will do the trick. 
You wont forget me then will you, dear 
Harold?” For she was if anything even 
keener than him to get on, and did not want 
to be left behind, for though she knew how 
the millions helpt she guest there was more to 
it than that. 

“Bring up your slates my poor clods of 
pupils,” cried the teacher looking vext. 

Two girls in gowns of patterns like chair 
covers swooned off, which was very successful 
and nicety done. 

“That’s the emoshun,” a snaky-faced chap 
whispered behind his hand to Selia. 

Another chap who might have been own 
brother to the nawseous Mr. Boon crackt his 
slate on his desk and scrumbled the bits on the 
floor. 


33 


Splashing into Society 


“Sir,” lie cried, “my poem is too fair for 
the eyes of the herd.” 

The teacher pluckt his beard harder 
greatly taken by this swanky touch, and was 
going to give the prize to that chap until of a 
sudden Mr. Withersq sprang airily forward 
crying in a pulpit voice: “Read mine!” 

He had wrote:— 

Horse that never gallops, 

Mere bakers horse, half horse 
And half mare, 

You belong to a baker, 

You draw a cart with bread 
Down the blank streets. 

Growing pale with sorrow 
Why not kick up your heels? 

Springing on your back 
I will tame you. 

We will scamper to the prairies 
And skin some bears. 


34 



Splashing into Society 

That was the poem Mr. Withersq had 
wrote, he thought of it because of some 
cinemas he used to see. 

The teacher seazed his head between his 
hands and beat it madly on his desk and 
shreiked very loud. 

“Ah,” he gasped as though washing in cold 
water, “this is immense, this is a charming 
poem, ah me, ah me, it is truly wonderful!” 

And he wept tears. 

The other pupils oped wide their eyes, and 
heard him, and lept up crying “Ah yes, 
charming, wonderful, what forse what words 
what pictures what simpelness,” or something 
like that. Many came and kissed Mr. 
Withersq and burst on all sides into sobs. 
There never was such a scene. Selia mean¬ 
while sat chewing her handky not knowing 
what to make of it though Mr. Withersq sent 
her a sly wink from time to time as though to 
say that her time was yet to come. 

85 


Splashing into Society 


The teacher still beating his head on the 
desk now became devilishly excited and 
furiously rang a large hand bell which he 
drew from within. 

“What is it, what is it?” cried Selia to the 
glory-smothered Mr. Withersq. 

“God knows,” replyed our hero, “but I 
think I have done the trick.” 

On the wringing of the bell feet were heard 
to be approaching and many doors opened in 
the near distance. The door burst and many 
clever poetry teachers of the school followed 
by their pupils came hurrying in and rushed 
at Mr. Withersq where he stood beside the 
teacher modestly spottled with sweat and paw¬ 
ing at Selia’s unwilling hand. 

“A new poet, a new poet!” they all yelled, 
dancing with glee around the desk. 

First came a man with scarlet face and flan¬ 
nel suit and spotted tie, rather after the 
fashion of those you give slips of paper to at 

36 


Splashing into Society 


street corners about the races. He was fol¬ 
lowed by a class of sturdy men some like 
sailors and some very artful looking prinking 
on their legs as they came, and all of these 
spoke bad words. 

“That is the limerick class,” wispered the 
head teacher to Selia. 

An absent faced teacher with a lock over his 
eyes now rushed in crying: “Where is the 
lad, where is he that I may press him to me?” 
and when with a fine gestur the head teacher 
pointed to Mr. Withersq this man rushed to 
him and hugged him up and so did the lim¬ 
erick chaps too after that, because the absent 
teacher was a very great Irish poet. 

Then followed the rhyming class, very 
young poets these were, and after them 
trooped in a class mostly of bitter old fash¬ 
ioned ladys and a few clericels who wrote 
poetry deadling with the soul and Sunday. 
Then came an image class of more foreign 

37 


Splashing into Society 


appearance, who were learning how to say odd 
things, and their teacher was a Dane from 
Denmark. Then came the lot that wrote son¬ 
nets which is very tricky work, who all wore 
blazers and white trowsers because they had 
been to Oxford and their hair though curly 
was pleasantly soaked in smelly oils, not like 
the uncurbed heads of the former poets who 
had entered. 

All these folks came busling in and many 
were the pleasant and curious garbs they 
sported, pleeted trousers, full puffy trousers, 
thin trousers tied under the boot, not to men¬ 
tion vegetated wastcoats or no wastcoats at all 
with very fancy shirts like ladys blouses, and 
all wore or carried hats such as were never I’m 
sure seen in Dunns, which is a hat shop. 

“This is Mr. Harold Withersq,” now cried 
the head teacher when they had all entered, 
“whom our enemys Emilian Boom and com¬ 
pany have chosed to heap insults on seeing he 

38 


Splashing into Society 

was a stranger. His mickle Burt is dead and 
has left him a good bit of money. And now 
he has gone and written a most wonderful 
poem. Our good sonnet teacher is at this 
moment speaking on the phone to the Minister 
of Education at Buckingham Palace to ask 
him if he will have him made our new head 
poet.” 

“Here here,” muttered the gathering, at 
which the eyes of Mr. Withersq lighted up 
and he gave a fresh grip on Selia’s hand. 

The sonnet teacher now came from the tele¬ 
phone. 

“Well?” asked the head teacher. “What 
does the minister say?” 

“Oh, he’s popped up stairs to ask His 
Majesty the King please to make Mr. 
Withersq head poet. I told him that Mr. 
Withersquashes unckle Burt is dead, so I ex¬ 
pect it will be all right.” By this he meant 
that money talks. 


39 


Splashing into Society 


Tinkle, tint, the telephone called out. The 
sonnet teacher went back to it. 

All the assembly had their ears out for 
what he said on it. 

‘‘Hello? Oh yes, its the school of poetry. 
Yes. Oh, you say the King will be very glad 
to have a fresh poet? That’s good. I see. 
Goodbye!” 

•j 

As he put down the hear-piece, a gruff cheer 
burst from the poets filling the room. The 
head teacher held up his hand. Silence fol¬ 
lowed. 

“His Majesty the King says he could well 
do with a fresh poet,” he announced, “and I 
am sure you will all agree that our new friend 
Mr. Withersquash is a very suitable one for 
the job. I therefore here and now award him 
the head poet of England. Three cheers for 
him. Go it, boys!” 

“Ah ah” they screemed. “Hurrah-hurrah^ 
hurrah! That is charming!” All the young 

40 


Splashing into Society 

lady poets and all the young gentlemen poets 
jumped for joy because the new poet had 
sprung from their school. 

The teachers and classes now drew in a ring 
round our hero clasping his Selia. The old 
lady servant who had opened the door to our 
heros now entered bearing a golden hat-box 
which she presented with a touching curtsy 
to the head teacher. He soon whipped off the 
lid, and drew forth an object muffed in 
erinkeld paper. 

“Ooh!” breathed all present, sucking in 
their breaths. 

Off came the erinkeld paper, and the bald 
bearded teacher drew forth a sweet little 
crown, all made of leaves, and bending over, 
slipped it on top of Mr. Withersquashes head. 

“That is until his dear Majesty the King 
has time to ask him to the Palace,” said he and 
kissed him a lot very sloppy and would have 
kist Selia but Mr. Withersq said not. 

41 


Splashing into Society 


All the crowd had a good clap and were very 
excited, for you see Mr. Withersq had wrote 
the best poem of the top class of the swankiest 
school of poetry in Briton and had been made 
head poet for his trouble which is how those 
things are done and they choose a new one 
every few years or so when the old ones get 
stale. 

But Mr. Withersq took the bun by laying 
his littel crown of leaves at Selia’s feet with a 
low bow (not wishing to go out in the street 
with it on) after which he hung it on one arm, 
and taking Selia on the other they walked 
forth amid the admiring throng waving them 
a harty goodbye. 


42 


CHAPTER FIVE 


u 


N 


ow,” said Selia, “what about a bit 
of food?” 

These words although not in¬ 
tended to be were overheard by two of the 
pupils from the school who had also come out. 

“Oh pray have a snack with us” said the 
plumper one, “I am Gerald Majpottel and 
this is my brother Rupert. Our father is a 
lord. We are in the satire class, we write a 
good few poems and move among the very 
best.” 

“In that case,” replied the hungry Selia, 
“we shall be delited to come thanks.” 

So they slipped all four'into a taxi and very 
soon arrived at the Majpottels house in Park 
Lane, a tall place with green blinds, behind 

43 








Splashing into Society 


whose covert pink housemaids flitted and 
peeped in galore, beneath the swey of a hand- 
som butler who was proudly figetting with the 
blind tassel in the diningroom window. 

Chucking one of the pretty housemaids 
under the chin Gerald Majpottel and his 
young brother led Mr. Withersq within and 
politely told them where to wash their hands. 

The bathroom was on top of the stares and 
very smart being all lined through with pink 
and blue tiles. The rich looking bath was pink 
china, almost enough to have a swim in with 
a few neat texts stampt on it to wile away the 
time while soaking, and a pretty mat saying 
“BATH” to step out on to after. 

“Oh, behold” cried Selia to Mr. Withersq 
who was doing his nails with a pin while she 
wiped up above the wrists. For they had the 
makings of good stuff although of humbel ex¬ 
tract. 

“Look dearest Harold how very chaste, in 

44 


Splashing into Society 


this little cupboard are the under attires of our 
hosts, arent they indeed smart?” 

Mr. Withersq fainting with jealousy re¬ 
plied: “Oh Selia, they are indeed modish, 
how lucky we struck with them, perhaps they 
will teach us a few wrinkles to success.” 

For in the airing cupboard by the bath re¬ 
posed elegant heaps of under attire. On the 
right hand side beneath a little card printed 
“Gerald” was a great pile of blue ones made 
some of finest fleece and some of silk both 
vests and other things while behind these 

lurked shirts in hues of pale and bright tones 

• 

very tricky indeed. On the left was a similar 
heep only with a card saying “Rupert” and all 
these were pink the same. 

“See,” cried Selia, “they are all marked in 
sewn letters with their own names, and a little 
crown above. Isn’t it pretty? That is be¬ 
cause their father is a lord you know.” 

“Ah yes,” sighed he, “how too-too!” for he 

45 


Splashing into Society 


had caught that saying up by now. “Selia!” 
he went on madly, “I too must go as soon as 
we’ve got through the food and buy some 
things like theirs in dozens, and I shall have 
Withersquash wrote on in sewn letters being 
smarter than Harold. Never never before 
did I know the shame of only having two of 
everything one to wear and one to wash until 
I peeped into this splendid wardrobe!” 

“Yes, you must indeed,” Selia agreed, “and 
why not have a neat little “£sd” done under¬ 
neath like they have their little crowns done, 
that would surely be a pretty touch seeing you 
are a millionaire!” 

“Selia, my own!” cried he, “you have said 
it! And it shall be done and you shall have 
some attire too for your pretty thought!” 

She was so glad at these words that she 
poked about a bit more in the cupboard and 
what did she espy but two littler piles of close 
all as white as snow with a little card over 

46 


Splashing into Society 


them saying “Sunday.” That finished Mr. 
Withersq and he slid down the bannisters after 
her, they were so pleased with things, to the 
room where the Majpottels were waiting. 

Five of the pink housemaids were dojjing 
round the table which was nice and large and 
full of good food in plenty. 

“Pray be seated,” cried Gerald, “and fall 
too.” He was a nice sleek young man with 
black slick hair and talked as though with 
sweets tucked in the mouth. 

So they all sat and ate beef and batter and 
peas for a start. 

“How nice your room is,” said Selia through 
the food she had stuffed in her mouth. 

“Is it not?” modestly replied Rupert, then 
he went on: “Our colours are good are not 
they?” at which Selia and Mr. Withersquash 
both nodded a good many times over and ate 
some more. 

The room was a grand site indeed, crimson 

47 


Splashing into Society 

and scarlet and red and vermilion, very odd, 
with purpley curtains like pretty ink. 

“And what do you think of our fireplace?” 
went on Rupert, blinking his green eyes. 

It was all made of white stone carved out 
into dogs and monkeys and things like that 
with a great face in the middel, twinkley drop 
things of sparkling glass stood at each end of 
it and a gold clock in the middel under a 
shade. 

“That is very nice,” politely replied Selia. 

“Yes, it cost a good bit,” Rupert said. 

He then past them some salmon done up 
with bits of egg and greenery and they ate 
that, and then some ham with hot pickels, and 
then some nice boiled pudding with jam on 
it and some frute tart with blobs of stiff cream 
and a few ices after (wrapped up in lace 
paper they were too), and some very costly 
kinds of fruits like aprycots and grapes which 
they washed down with every kind of wines 

48 


Splashing into Society 

and beer for as soon as Selia and Mr. Wither- 
squash had emtied a glass of wines or beer a 
pink housemaid came and filled it up again, 
because the butler who was leaning against 
the wall at the back told them to. But the 
brothers Majpottel ate almost nothing which 
is a very polite thing to do, and in that case 
you have it in the pantry or up in your bed¬ 
room later on. 

When they had eaten all they could they 
pushed back from the tabel and had a bit of 
talk. 

“And are you glad now, dear Withersq that 
you got made head poet?” asked Rupert in a 
polite tired voice. 

“Oh yes, that I am” said Mr. Withersq, 
“for I dearly want to get on.” 

“And so do I,” lisped Selia “although it is 
not all plane sailing, alas.” 

“Come, brother,” cried Rupert Majpottel 

49 


✓ 

/ 


Splashing into Society 

to Gerald with kind condescencion. “Why 
not lets help this young pair.” 

“Why yes,” replied Gerald, “they must fix 
up some more brite idears like the poetry and 
become famous for that is the way to shine, 
and get on, if you are not born to the man¬ 
ner.” 

Mr. Withersquash was feeling a bit sick but 
he cheered up now and enquired the way to 
make the smartest baronesses and such to take 
notice. “You see, dear sir,” he said, “I would 
very much like to ask Miss Selia to become 
Mrs. AY. but I cant very well until I know 
where I am, can I? Eh?” 

Selia was overcome with blushes, for she 
had learnt to love her Harold by now, and 
very much fancied herself as his wife, though 
this was the first he had said of it. 

“It is all right for you,” replied Rupert, 
“seeing you have come in to a good bit of 
money and are now the head poet, although 

50 


\ 


Splashing into Society 


not quite the thing in some ways if I may say 
so without offence.” 

“Not at all,” said Mr. Withersq. “What 
you mean is that Selia must have her bit of 
success too, do you?” 

“Well, yes,” said the brothers, “it is a hard 
world for the ladys if they are not quite the 
thing, and you see when a lady is a wife, she 
must be up to all the ways of the world else 
she looks a bit silly doesnt she, and people 
dont come to see her you know, which is rather 
a bore.” 

“Give us a few handy tips,” said Selia for 
she was not so stuck up but what she was 
willing to try and go one better. 

“Well to begin with you must get a few 
clothes, such as fur coats and some nice eve¬ 
ning togs and some long narrow shoes,” said 
Rupert rather thoughtfully. “If you go to a 
good shop the ladys there will tell you what 
you ought to have.” 


51 


Splashing into Society 


“Why yes” said she gleefully, “Harold you 
shall buy me all those and some good hats and 
a gold-stalked umberella.” 

“Certenly, certenly” replied the good Mr. 
Withersq. 

“Then you might try talking in that boomy 
voice we use” Gerald took up the tale, “and 
try and look a bit fed up with things, you 
know, but that isnt really all, for you simply 
must be a bit of a toff at something or other 
and then the baronesses will notice and re¬ 
member who you are which is the great idear.” 

“With pleasure” replied Selia with a hic¬ 
cup from the stout she had had, “but what had 
I better do? I am only a simple girl, and 
know very little.” 

“What do you say to that?” Mr. Withersq 
asked the brothers with a scratch at his nose, 
“I hardly know what to suggest myself.” 

“Do you sing?” Gerald asked. 

“No” said Selia dully. 


Splashing into Society 


“Cant you do anything besides play the 
piano?’’ asked Mr. Withersq. 

“Oh! The piano! Dont ever let anyone 
know you can play that!” warned Gerald. 
“That is a very low thing to do. The banjo 
or the cello if you like but not the rotten 
piano!” 

“Let us think,” said Mr. Withersq. “What 
would be the best thing for her to do?” 

“Well now, let us think then” agreed the 
brothers Majpottel tipping back their chairs. 
“There is politics but it would be too long 
before she got in the cabinet and perhaps also 
she would never get in at all. She cant very 
well go in for science, seeing she doesnt know 
any, she cant very well become a painter nor 
even a dressmaker because she dont know how 
to dress herself. I dont really know what she 
can do.” 

“Oh dear, oh dear!” wailed the poor girl 
and dropped into Mr. Withersquashes bosom 

53 


Splashing into Society 

for comfort, all the pride had gone out of her 
now. 

“It’s a pity she isnt a sporty girl/’ muttered 
Rupert half to himself for he had taken a lik¬ 
ing to his humbel friends and could not bear 
to see her weep. 

“What did you say?” shreiked Selia darting 
like an asp from Mr. Withersquashes em¬ 
brace. “A sporty girl? Me? Who says I’m 
not? Aint I got the challenge cup for the 
Hoxton tennis club three years running? 
Aint I the best roller skatist they ever seen at 
Holland Park? Say I’m not sporty?” 

“Tennis?” yelled Gerald and Rupert to¬ 
gether, till one of the vanished housemaids 
put her head round the door thinking she was 
wanted. 

“Yes” yelled back Selia, “and why not?” 

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” the two lordly 
brothers cried. “That’s a good girl! You’ll 
be the success of the season if your pashent” 

54 


Splashing into Society 


and then chatter chatter they went making 
plans for Selia’s springing her talents on the 
smart world, which would make it possible for 
Mr. Withersq to wed her without her getting 
the cold shoulder as a matron. 

It was settled at last that the brothers 
should arrange for her first appearance. 

“Very well” said Selia, “thank you. You 
may rely on me to do my best. Come on 
Harold we must go to the shops.” 

“Goodbye dear friends” said Gerald rising 
very elegantly to lead them to the door “and 
thank you for coming. Mind and brush up 
your sports now Miss Selia and get some 
suitable raiment for the great day and we will 
shew them the stuff you are made of.” 

“Very good” said Selia at the door, “and 
you see if we dont make a splash in socierty 
with a vengeance.” With these words she and 
Mr. Withersq went off and that is all that 
happened there. 


55 


CHAPTER SIX 


T hey popped quickly together into 
Bond Street. A tall man like a 
sarjent stood graveley at the door of 
the shop Mr. Withersq led his love to, and 
this tall man pretended to be undoing the door 
of a motor car when he saw them stopping at 
the door, and offered Selia his arm as if she 
was stepping out of her car and then led her 
up to the door as though she were someone al¬ 
though she had simply come on foot. 

Once inside a lordly person in evening 
dress came swimming up with joined hands 
and said “What, please?” with a low bow. 

Mr. Withersq said very loud: “Under- 
things” so this gentleman led them through 
beautiful saloons of costly goods until they 
got to that part. 


56 







Splashing into Society 


A damzel with reddish hair gowned in 
trailing black satin and beads rose from a 
couch with a nice smile saying “What, please?” 
as Mr. Withersq told her. She then ran light¬ 
ly up a few ladders and threw boxes down 
until he had chosen the kind of under things 
he craved from amongst these. There were 
garments of satin and silk and fleece all very 
refined and nice but Mr. Withersq chose his 
to be of peech pink as he thought that was 
rather fashenable and odd. 

He then gave orders for his name and £sd 
in a little ring to be embroidered on all these 
and paying her some good few pounds pro¬ 
ceeded to another apartment. 

“Come Selia,” he cried, “we must quickly 
make ourselves chick.” 

And so with a harty slap on the back he led 
her on towards the boot part of the shop. 

“Show me some shoes and boots of the 
best” cried he smiling fondly to the lady at the 

57 


Splashing into Society 


boots, “this is me and my young lady Selia, 
we are to go in socierty and must dress the 
part as you doubtless no.” 

So he bought a yellow j)air with butons and 
a couple of black pairs of shoes and some 
white hairy ones and some red house shoes, 
and Selia had some shiny black shoes with 
dimond buckles and some pale boots and some 
openwork boots up the sides and some high 
shiny boots and some fur boots for the bed¬ 
room and satin slippers of every hugh besides 
stockings to match and silk all the way up at 
that every time and very nice to feel. 

Then Mr. Withersq bought black coats 
both day and night with plad trouwsers for 
day and smooth black ones for nite and a sport 
suit with whiskers on it that smelt, with top 
hats fawn and black and a night hat that 
popped up and down with a snap. 

Selia then got 
Velvet hats 


58 


Splashing into Society 


Lace hats 

Silk hats with stremers 
Lether hats 

Straw hats some with flowrs and fethers 
Bed hats of frills and bows 
and all of these had its own privet box to be in 
and a lid that fitted it. While as to the robes 
that her loving Harold streud on her no tongue 
could tell for there was a high stepped lady 
all to themselves that taurght them what to by 
and for when which is the worst to know and 
the things j)iled up like greased litning till all 
the persons in the shop left their jobs and all 
the people too and the boys that wizz the lifts 
up and down too and all followed and stared 
to see so rich a man prepar his fate. He 
topped it all by ordering gloves by boxfuls, a 
fan as curly as a ostrich and under attire by 
wisper for his sweet, which she went into a 
littel privet part to chose herself. 

And they went out of that shop most 

59 


Splashing into Society 


exceeding grand dressed all in new things 
scruffing their shoes on the floor to take the 
shiny off, carrying parcels all eyes glaring 
upon them and left boxes and boxes full to 
come on by Carter Pattisen. 

“Taxi, sir?” asked the sarjent-looking man 
at the door bowing more low than at first. 

“Yes” gruntled Mr. Withersq as the 
strings of his parcels cut his fingers a bit and 
he was sore tired. 

A taxi swam up to the edge of the path and 
the man opened the door of it and Selia nipped 
in and sank down in its interiaw. 

“Where to?” said the driver, which made 
Mr. Withersq think twice before he spoke that 
time. 

Seeing his destress the sarjent-looking man 
wispered in his ear as a sugestion: “why not 
the Grand Palace my good sir, it is very 
sentral.” 

So Mr. Withersq got to the point at last 

60 


Splashing into Society 


and ordered the taxi to go to the Grand 
Palace, which he did. 

When they got there Mr. Withersq 
stumped into the hall as he had had an idear. 

“Trot me out the boss!” he cried to the 
trembling girl in the glass desk there and she 
ran for him. 

When he came he was fat and red. 

“I am the manager” he utered. 

“So?” said Mr. Withersq knowing well 
that would make him feel small. “Well I am 
Mr. Withersq, my unckle Burt has left me 
many millions, I have my lady Selia with me, 
I am the Head Poet of the Land and I wish 
to rent your second and third floors all to my¬ 
self one for me and one for her, as only the 
best will do for us.” 

“Y r ou want two whole floors?” spat the red 
manager. 

“I do” said Mr. Withersq. 

“But what of those who are within the 


61 


Splashing into Society 

floors ?” said the manager who was very afraid 
by now. 

“Tell them I will foot their bills” replyed 
Mr. Withersq “and ask no questions if they 
will get out.” 

The red man turned pale now and ran away 
to do Mr. Withersquashes bequest, and Mr. 
Withersq went to fech Selia and the band 
struck up in the hall amongst the parms and 
sweet flowers, and the girl in the glass desk 
bowed and so the pair proudly entered and 
went up the stares to their apartments, and 
those who had been in the rooms before went 
hurried down the back stairs, but it was 
no trouble to them as they knew that they had 
made on the bargen. 

After they had gone to their two floors and 
settled down and sent for all their close, Selia 
called down the stairs to her Harold: “I say, 
Squashy dear, lets go for a ride on a horse.” 

“Why yes” said Mr. Withersq, that is a 

62 


Splashing into Society 


very smart thing to do indeed, I wonder we 
did not think of it before.” 

So he rang the bell that was standing on a 
little tabel very handy in the passage, and a 
dear little boy with three rows of beady butons 
all up his coat came tripping to reply to it. 

“Go out and buy me some breeches” 
ordered Mr. Withersq “my dear little lad. 
And please get me two whips and a riding 
skirt for the lady. Be quick back and you can 
keep the change.” 

And he handed him a bag full of money. 

Off tripped the little lad and shortly re¬ 
turned with boxes from a nabouring shop. He 
had thoughtfully brought all that was the 
thing, riding boots and hats and whips and 
gloves for two, and a pair of breeches each, 
shaggy ones for Mr. Withersq and black for 
Selia with a coat and skirt in one also to cover 
her up. They slipped into these things and 
tossing the remains of the money to the boy 

63 


Splashing into Society 


they went out and hired two horses and went 
for a ride in the park to get up an appetite for 
tea after all they had eaten at the Majpottels. 
It joggled them up a bit on the horses as all 
they had ever rode before was at the fairs, still 
they stuck it and were stout of heart. 

Just as they were coming out of the Park 
to go home a poleeceman stopt them. 

“Are you by way of being Mr. Wither- 
squash?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said our hero without quaking for 
he knew he had done no rong, “what of it, 
eh?” 

“A messej has just come from the Palace 
that his dear Magesty the King would like 
you to slip in to tea and see him, as he wants 
to see what sort of a new poet he has got.” 

“Oh, all right,” said Air. Withersq, “will 
it do if we go as we are, and do you think I 
can take Selia too?” 

“I expect it will be all right” said the 

64 


Splashing into Society 


poleeceman. “His Magesty is very kind and 
nice, I dont think he would mind much.” 

So they rode on their horses down to the 
Palace, and tied the reins on to those twisty 
rails in front of it, and the guards in the hairy 
hats nodded to them, and they went into the 
front yard and up to the door and then in, 
as they knew they were expected. 

Oh what an hour for Mr. Withersq and his 
Selia to step at last on that envied spot. 

“Littel did I think when we set out that we 
should go so far nor do so well” uttered Mr. 
Withersq in a low tone from respect as they 
went inside. Just then a junior admiral came 
stepping smartly to meet them. 

“Ha good day dear Mr. Withersq” said he 
with a grin. 

“Goodday indeed,” responded he. “Let me 
interduce Selia. Shake hands Selia!” which 
she did. 

“Pleased to meet you” said the admiral who 

65 


Splashing into Society 


was garbed in serge and Trade of purest gold. 
He then went on “Perhaps you’d like to tidy 
up a bit before you go in to tea?” 

“If its not troubling you” said Selia, who 
was a bit shattered in looks after the horse. 

“Certainly not” said the admiral kindly 
“we have a special place for that sort of thing. 
When visiters come in on the hop as you have 
they generally want a brush and washup by 
the time they arrive.” 

“Yes traveling does make one so fussely, 
does not it” cried Selia in a boomy tone 
which caused the admiral to open wide his 
admiring eyes as he had no doubt thought she 
would be quite common and was glad to find 
it was not so after all. 

“Quite, quite” agreed he, adding “and I 
have sent to tell the guards at the gate to be 
sure and give your horses some water and 
straw for their tea so do not worry about 
them.” 


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Splashing into Society 


“Oh they are not ours thanks all the same” 
said Mr. Withersq. “Still you might as well 
have a drink sent out to them if you dont 
mind, thanks.” 

The admiral now led them to the place for 
the toilett and passed them on to the persons 
there. It was a very vast hall complete with 
shaving chairs with shavers in silk jackets who 
soon took Mr. Withersq and wrapped him up 
in cloths and gave him a good scrape and Selia 
in turn went to a marbel tabel where one 
damsel tidyed her hair kindly and another 
gave her pouder and all those kinds of things 
and another polished her nails nicely with 
pinka and wiped her boots over with a velvet 
and when both were neat they returned to the 
admiral who was waiting because that is what 
he was for. So he looked them over and saw 
there was no hares on Mr. Withersquashes 
coat and everything as it should be. 

On he led them down passage after passage 

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Splashing into Society 


and through room after room, and he let them 
have a peep in to where the best of the m.p.’s 
were thinking out some new laws which in- 
terested them both very much. And in the 
next room they had a squint at a lot of gen¬ 
erals very fierce of mustashe who were prac¬ 
tising with swords and guns and keeping their 
peckers up until the next war in that way be¬ 
cause if they dont they get livers and have to 
retire. 

And next to them in another room were the 
sea lords, some of whom waved very friendly 
to the conductor of our little party, but they 
were not very busy at work as their time for 
swimming practise was over for that day, and 
they were having the half day off, so ideled the 
time with marveleous jig-saws and draufts 
and chesses and what not, very cosy in their 
nice room. 

At last they came to a very grand high 
passage all lined with flags of conquered 

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Splashing into Society 


countries and a stuffed lion in a glass case on 
the left just before a door, which was the door 
of the room where the King and Queen were, 
at which both Selia and Harold began to 
tremble not a little, for of all things they 
wanted to make a good impression. 

“Have a heart” cried the admiral kindly, 
“they will not eat you, and there is no fuss on 
purpose not to make you feel small as the King 
well nose that it is a bit queer for a poet like 
you coming to see him in his Palace for the 
first time.” 

At that he gave a respecful tap on the door 
and departed. 

They entered meekly into a great room with 
slippery floor, and in the centre there was a 
tabel all heaped with flowers and set for about 
ten and smothered in sweet foods, and at this 
tabel sat the King and her dear Magesty the 
Queen was just pouring out tea. They had 
pushed back their thrones to seem more at 

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Splashing into Society 


home and sat on simpel chairs, and the 
Princess and the Princes were alas not 
there, so no doubt they were elsewhere on 
business. 

“I am Mr. Withersq” said our hero as he 
went in, holding Selia by the hand and mak¬ 
ing a courtly bow, “and this is my lady Selia. 
We were out riding and only just knew you 
wanted us so we came strait on.” 

“That’s all right” said the King, getting up 
to push two more chairs to the tabel for them. 
“We’re very glad to see you. Excuse us hav¬ 
ing started but we didn’t know if you’d get 
here in time and we were dying for a cup of 
tea.” 

“Sit down, do,” said the Queen nicely, 
because she guest they would not dare to sit 
unless told. 

Now Selia found her tongue and said 
“It is so very good of you to let me come in 
too, it will be a great help to me, and I have 

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Splashing into Society 


always so wanted to see you, little dreaming I 
ever should when Ma and I used to go to the 
pictures together and see you on the Pathe.” 

“Really now?” said the Queen passing 
down two more cups of tea for them, “very 
pleased to see you I’m sure at last. What is 
this they tell me about your young man’s hav¬ 
ing done so well at poetry?” 

So Selia told her all about how he came in 
for a good bit of money and how they set out 
to get on in the world, and how Emilyon 
Room had turned up his nose, and how Mr. 
Withersq had got the prize as best poet, and 
how now if only she could make a hit too they 
hoped shortly to wed. And the Queen 
listened very nicely and promised that 
Emilyon Room should be punished and not 
allowed to write poems any more. All this 
time Selia was getting plenty to eat too. 

Meantime the King and Mr. Withersq 
were having a nice chat. 

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Splashing into Society 


“Listen my dear” said the King to the 
Queen, “my Head Poet is telling me that his 
young lady wants to make a hit and she is 
going to shew the world what she can do in 
the way of sport. Now dont you think we 
might go and see her, because that will be a 
help if the people know we are going to be 
there, wont it? And I have taken a great lik¬ 
ing to these young people, and should like to 
see them happily married.” 

“Certenly, certenly,” utered the Queen 
most kindly patting Selia’s hand for a mo¬ 
ment so that was setled and after a bit they 
got up to go and happily remembered to go 
out through the door backwards and the King 
waved his hand kindly as they did so to say 
goodbye, but the Queen was busy ringing the 
bell for a maid to clear. 

“I hope he thought I was all right as a 
poet” Mr. Withersq said outside, “I suppose 


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Splashing into Society 


I shall often have to pop in and see him if he 
keeps me on.” 

Just then the King called “Hi!” from in¬ 
side the room so they peeked in again to see 
what it was. 

“Oh I say! I quite forgot your medel” he 
said, laufing a good bit, “here you are then and 
blessings on you.” It was a nice little medal 
like tiny leaves in gold which is what the Head 
Poet wears so as people know what he is 
altho’ you dont often see him. So they again 
bowed and waved goodbye and came out and 
went back along all the passages and so out 
into the yard and there the horses still were, 
looking a bit fed up with waiting so long. And 
as they strode up to them a very good thing 
happened, because a photo man from the 
newspapers came up and took their photos 
which is fame indeed. 

“What luck” cried Selia gayly as they rode 


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Splashing into Society 


away, “it was indeed a good idear to go to the 
poetry school was it not! see how you have 
got on!” 

“Yes, I think we are getting on all right” he 
replyed for of a truth he had learnt by now 
that it is only the first step that hurts. 


74 


■»wi —* IMI—uu —1111 — 1UI — Ull — Mil —-)W—M—Ml—Dll — NR—MO — HU—IU1 —• HN —* tIU—Ull—IH1 — Ml —* 


CHAPTER SEVEN 


W hen they got back to the hotel, a 
goodly knot of persons were about 
the entrance and dotted in the nobel 
hall, and at our little heroes arrival their 
chatter died to a respectful hiss, and bowing 
nicely to right and left Harold Withersq and 
his Selia stamped within, but Selia wished all 
the tc do was for her. 

“Toodleoo” she told her Harold “I am to 
get my nails done at a place.” 

“Done?” snarled her sweet. “How done?” 
“At much cost” said Selia simply so with a 
delited smile he drew forth the copious 
money and stuffed the notes in her bag which 
was like a crocodil with head tail and paws but 
it was only a little one and lined with stuff. 
Then Mr. Withersq waved her away so she 

75 




Splashing into Society 


departed getting a bit mixed up in the round¬ 
about at the door which is only meant for fun 
but she got jamd. 

“Now gentlemen” said he stripping off his 
new butter coloured gloves like banana skins 
as he had seen heros do on the pictures, “and 
what may I do for you.” This he had learnt 
in shops in the old days so it was not very 
smart. 

Now these new folk, most men in servicable 
suits and white collars wearing nose-glasses 
before their keen eyes but a few ladys in prim 
attire, stepped up and they were all from 
newspapers, for the fame of Harold Withersq 
had spread and he was the talk of the hour. 
So that the newspapers had snapt at the 
chance of a bit from him. 

As the babbel ceased Mr. Withersq made 
a motion of modesty and sought to retire, but 
was cort short by a ruddy one in checks who 
asked him would he write a little for his paper, 

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Splashing into Society 


and another thin one who asked him when he 
was born, and a lady who commanded him to 
tell her about love for the ladys page. 

All agog Mr. Withersq who was never one 
to lose a chance, made to tell them, knowing 
no guile, when a sudden thought smote him, 
he clasped his brow rather earnest for a 
moment, then brushing them from him, 
he darted into the glassy telephone box near 
by. 

“Hello” cried he to the invisible voice of 
the girl of the wires, “get me the editer of the 
Daily Dull 33 and so stood waiting for it. 

The assembled crowd breathed in distress 
for this was a bold move. The girl got Mr. 
Withersq on after he had stamped a little 
because of being hot in the glassy box and he 
sweated so much. 

“This is Mr. Withersq” he was heard to 
utter. All were aghast to think he dared to 
summons that great editor to the phone. The 

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Splashing into Society 


voice of our hero continued very proud for 
who was he to bend before editors now: 

“Y r ou have heard of me. My unckle Burt 
having died leaving the goods, you know how 
I stept into glory, and how I am in society and 
I have become the Head Poet. Some folks 
have come to tap my brains for their papers, 
so I thought I would ring you up instead and 
proffer to make you a chatty little bit for the 
front page about how I got on in the world.” 

“Very good then” he chortled in response 
to the editors unheard words, “yes indeed it 
is too true that all are willing to be told how to 
get there but few arrive. I will do my best 
by the public.” Cramming down the hear- 
piece he burst from the box and ambled up to 
his apartment humming a little air and leaving 
the crushed crowd below. 

Did he falter? That no one shall know but 
he soon picked up, and tucked up his new 
mauve cuffs, and sat down, and began. 

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Splashing into Society 


And when Selia returned, she tripped into 
his room where he sat now in a bandana 
dressing-gown at a desk with a pen in hand 
and some ink on his nose. 

“Behold” cried she stripping her gloves and 
twinkling like jewls her new-polished nails at 
him, “lo Harold what they have done for me!” 

“Tush” cried he blotting his last page, yet 
looked towards her for he dearly loved her did 
Mr. Withersq and had all of a great man’s 
easy ways. “Quite a little picture” he went on 
giving her a good look over. She was indeed 
improved in a gown with red bits on and 
slippery shoes very long and nasty-looking but 
the thing and silk stocking of the best with 
ventilations on the sides and the crocodil bag 
and one of those little hats like a hen, which 
when she took off laid bare a delicous mass of 
curly hares and her face was made up suitable 
to a lady. Selia was indeed grand. 

“Kiss me then” said Harold to be done with 


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Splashing into Society 


it, during which she wetted a new handky and 
rubbed the ink off his nose. 

4 ‘If I may say so you are rather smart to 
look at now” he said, “I think that you will be 
a credit to me and no doubt your time will 
come.” 

“Ah that it might” lisped she sorely with a 
tear, “for of a truth the ladys are none to nice 
to me when you are absent and I have many a 
bitter stair with that sideways turn of the head 
which is so proud from some no better than 
me but safely married. Or so I take it.” 

“Shush shush” cried the kind Mr. 
Withersq. “All will be well, and I will marry 
you so soon as I can afford to do so without 
putting my foot in the social hole. And in 
the meantime I am writing newspapers.” 

Selia now clapped her hands none knowing 
better than she to what heits the newspapers 
can carry some who know how to take bulls 
by the horns, and then feeling a bit out of it 

80 


Splashing into Society 

as she noticed him casting an eye on the inkpot 
once more, crept from the room and went up 
to her bedroom to have a nap under the quilt, 
and dream of the rosy days yet to come. 

When she woke again it was morning for 
she had been sore tired by all the events and 
had slept round the clock twice. Beneath her 
lace-veiled window the voice of many news¬ 
boys cried a name she seemed to know, so 
slipping from her bed she flew to have a peep 
into the street, and hanging well out she saw 
oh with what glee and pride writ large on every 
plachard held before the stomaches of the 
newsboys these words: 

HOW I DID IT: 

By H. WlTHERSQUASH 
f (Head Poet) 

Now was Selia indeed moved to pride, and 
wept a tear into the window-sill to think how 
dearly she loved him and how high she had to 

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Splashing into Society 


rise yet before worthy to sit beside him as wife 
and matron. So she crossed her little fingers 
and wished hard that she might soon get a 
good leg up through her good friends the 
Majpottels, after which she slided out of her 
clothes and things and had a nice wash in the 
basin all over altho not knowing that such is 
corect nature taught her it was best so every 
day. And while doing up her hair she prac¬ 
ticed talking in the new voice and warking 
with ease in the new thin shoes, and so with 
a last dab of powder from a pretty little glass 
pot on her dress-table, she popped downt to 
breakfast very spry and determined to win. 

And throughout London newsboys shouted 
the fame of Mr. Withersquash. 


82 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


M r. Withersq was already digging at 

the last of his second egg with rather 

a cross face, as he really preferred 

duck’s eggs as being more sustaining, when 

she entered their private eating apartment at 

whose door stood a chef sent to watch over 

their food by the hotel manager. 

“Hello dearie” cried he rising and casting 

the gloom off his face, as he had learnt to rise 

for ladys by now. “We have a treat in store 

for to-dav.” And he nodded to the chef to 
«/ 

bring Selia her breakfast, which the good man 
with his white hat did and then retired out of 
the room. 

“Oh Harold what is it?” she cried settling 
her new brown gown, “is it a better kind of 
party?” 


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Splashing into Society 


“Well hardly” said Mr. Withersq resum¬ 
ing his egg, “it is to go to a trial.” 

“Oh! How delishus” said Selia in glee, “is 
it a murder?” 

“No” said Mr. Withersq, “it is much 
better, it is a divorce, murders being a little 
vulgar. But the very cream go to divorces, 
and were it not for my having this morning 
before you rose purchaced a good half of the 
Daily Pull and put the editor in my pocket I 
do not think even we should have got in.” 

“Oh so now you have a newspaper” chirped 
his love. 

“Yes” said Mr. Withersq hortily “and as it 
is we have seats in the front.” 

Truly pleased, by this thoughtful and 
lucky idea Selia fell to and despatched her 
food after which they stepped into a taxi and 
rode to the law court. 

It was a dark forboding place somewhat 
square. A crowd of poor jostled without. 

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Splashing into Society 

The photos of Selia and her Harold were 
taken as they left the taxi to enter, at which 
Selia bridled a little but not her Harold. For 
a flash he feared they were mistaken for the 
guilty partys but it was not so only his fame. 

Inside was a great dark hall like church 
and the ten comandments in frames at the 
top, between which sat a juge in scarlet and 
ermin with a white wig, who was on a carved 
chair, with lawyers on one side in a row and 
jurys on the other in a pew and the lawyers 
were all lean and busy with papers, but the 
jurys were all plump and did nothing but sit. 

A stir occurred as our heroes entered and 
were led by a beadel to the front row at which 
the judge beat his little hammer on the desk 
of his throne and cried “Ordre” very stern for 
all present were twisting and craning to get a 
better view of our pair, more so the ladys of 
whom there were many with lunsheon baskets 
seated around. 


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Splashing into Society 


“This is not a school of poetry,” said the 
judge aside and drew a laugh, so Mr. Withersq 
knew at once this must be the famous Judge 
Crop the well-known wit. So they both sat 
down and settled. 

The buss died down and silence came as a 
door at the side opened and amid a murmur 
of pity the partys to the divorce were led in, 
pale-faced and dismally clanking the hand¬ 
cuffs on their wrists, and the injured husband 
led the way. There were three in all, the lady 
and the villian with meek look following after, 
and the lady was very soberly dressed in 
black coat and skirt as befitted her position. 

A policeman led them to stand in a row 
before the Judge, and they all three stood mum 
while the lawyers began to rise one by one and 
muter and muter and rasple their papers, and 
bow now and then to the Judge who seemed 
to sleep nevertheless he opened an eye from 
time to time. 


86 


Splashing into Society 


Selia was a bit vexed for she found it dull 
and it was very hot, and they were so squashed, 
so she laid back a good bit against her Harold, 
and attemted to list. 

“Ha” cried the Judge suddenly waking, 
“and what have you to say for yourself’’ as he 
glared at the villian, so the Wife fell to sob¬ 
bing, and all the audience were greatly moved. 
But poor Selia was so sleepy with stuffiness 
that she dropped off without hearing more 
and only woke in time to hear the worst. The 
Villian and Wife had exprest their regrets, 
the jurys had talked the matter over, and the 
Judge was sitting on them, with a black cap 
on his head. 

In slow and solemn words he drorled forth 
his mind and the end of it all was that he con¬ 
demned the Wife and the Villian both to 
prison for six months to learn to mend their 
ways, at which the Husband rubbed hands of 
glee and the wicked Wife and the terrible 

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Splashing into Society 


Villian trailed out to their sad fate, at which 
the meeting broke up, and some were 
heard to say it had not been much fun. But 
Harold said ifc was a good show, as the Judge 
had made four jokes. So they pushed out 
through the throng to the taxi still waiting 
and poured quietly back home as Harold was 
to write some more that day about how to make 
a splash in socierty for the front page of his 
newspaper. 


88 


CHAPTER NINE 


H e departed to his room as soon as they 
entered and left Selia to herself so she 
sat on her bed and was bored. Sweet 
was the sound of the lunch-bell, but she did 
not speak to Mr. Withersq during the meal 
as she was cross, and he did not either because 
he was thinking. 

Lunch over he called her again to his 
side. 

“Alas, alas how fondly I love your charms” 
he said in his usual softly mode. 

“Perhaps you do and perhaps you dont” 
snarled she making herself very stiff as he 
tried to press her to him. “All the same it 
would look better if you paid more notice to 
me instead of to making yourself so grand 

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Splashing into Society 


with writing newspapers, knowing very well 
you ought to be writing poems, and vexing 
the King no doubt, as he must have made you 
Head Poet for something. Unless you find 
me no more than a drag on you as a humbel 
girl and wish me to go back to ma.” 

At this he first brushed cobwebs from his 
brow in amaze for he had not looked at it from 
this side, and then laughing much for he was 
no ill-temperd boor was Withersq, he drew 
her very loving to his knee and soothed her 
with strokes, and once more promised all 
should be well and that the Ma jpottels had her 
case in hand and would know when to 
strike. 

“Oh dont tell me” she said but nestling a 
little so as not to be-anger him, “the Maj- 
pottels are coming for me at three.” 

“Coming?” snapped he. “And why may I 
ask?” 

“Ah that is a secret” she said archly, feeling 

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Splashing into Society 


now she had got her own back and she coyly 
rubbed his ears over till they were redder than 
ever. 

“Remember. You are mine” he urged 
rather stern for his was a true love. “I trust 
you.” 

“Not half” responded she, and changed the 
subject. 

Mr. Withersq now popped her on the floor 
and got up, feeling for his gloves and hat, as 
he had got quite used to nice ways now. 

“Come sweet” he cried, having found them 
on a green silk sofa under the window. “I 
have something to show you.” 

So he led her down the red-carpet stairs 
towards the hotel door, and the uniform man 
worked the whirling doors for them very 
humbly. 

“Lo” he cried. 

Oh what a treat for Selia! Drawn up to 
the footwark what should be there but a motor 

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Splashing into Society 


car painted blue with a blue-coat man to drive 
it and on the door was painted £sd just as 
Mr. Withersq had had put on all his under¬ 
linen. 

“It is for us” said he proudly, so they 
stepped in, the man snapt the door to, and 
drove to the park. 

Hardly had they arrived there when a very 
nice thing occurred for as they glided along 
the smooth path between the trees, looking 
very chic and bored, who should they meet 
but the Countess who had been at the party 
the first night they burst upon a startled 
world. So they drew up. The countess wlio 
was in a thin white car and working it herself 
stopped too seeming to know them, and so 
they had a little chat. 

“Goodmorning I am the Countess, per¬ 
haps you dont recollect me” said she, without 
smiling or letting the stiff look off her face. 
Selia who had been about to give a grin 
stopped herself just in time and continued to 

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Splashing into Society 


have the bored look, which she now knew was 
the thing when meeting a pal. 

“Indeed yes” she said very slow as tho’ too 
tired, yet in her heart determined to push for¬ 
ward now or never, “you were so kind to us.” 

“Oh dont pray mention it” the smart lady 
replyed with a well-trained smile, “only too 
pleased and if you would care to come and 
have tea with me to-morrow I shall be very 
delited. I dont think my husband will 
mind.” 

“Certainly we will and thank you” said Mr. 
Withersq, as though he had not heard that 
last bit. 

“Is that your dog?” inquired Selia, wishing 
to chat on for she liked to be beheld chatting 
in the Park, more so with a Countess. 

“Yes, that is Lipstick my poodle” the 
beauty said yawning, but it wasnt realy a 
poodle, rather more like a white dashund with 
rough hare and very polished eyes. 

“How sweet he is” lisped Selia. 

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Splashing into Society 


"Is not he?” replyed their new friend "and 
how charming your new car is!” 

"Yes” said Selia "it is not so bad,” and her 
heart gave a secret bound with pride, "well 
we must toddle now. Gooby.” 

"Gooby” replyed the Countess and pulled 
a thing and so moved away, leaving them very 
pleased with how they were getting on. 

When they had gone all along the gravel 
path, and across the bridge by the Serpentine 
and up to Bayswater, and then back, having 
successfully caused a few horses with riders 
on them to dance on their back legs, which is 
why many folks go in motors in the Park, as 
this is a sort of sport, Selia spoke again. 

"It is a very nice car indeed” she said a 
little in confusion, "and runs smooth as butter. 
But now I must be getting back dear Harold.” 

Scowling on her, Mr. Withersq poked his 
head out of the side door and told the man to 
go back to the hotel, which he did, making 

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Splashing into Society 


<<■ 


<<• 


that popping noise all down Piccadilly, and 
when they got to the door Mr. Withersq 
got out, helped Selia down, raised his hat and 
waited for her to depart within the hotel. 

Dearly wishing to teaze his male curiossity 
she lingered a little until stung into madness 
by her mystery he said very stern. 

‘Do not trifle with a good man’s affections.” 
‘Ho!” quoth she, “trifle? Indeed I do not 
trifle but do my bit as well as may be so that 
all should end well. And if you had asked me 
why I retire I would have told you but now 
wild horses should not make me speak be¬ 
cause of your bad heart.” 

With a careless laugh she plunged in 
through the doors and was immediately fallen 
upon by the Majpottels who had on their pink 
and blue shirts, with pale grey suits and straw 
hats in hand, beaming with long sad smiles 
into her face, and so between them they walked 
the length of the hall and back, chatting (this 

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Splashing into Society 


was to exercise Selia in the art of social ease) 
and then sat awhile in green-painted basket 
chairs near the parms. IsTow it was a very hot 
day and both of the brothers were reddish and 
rather damp, but noblesse obliged them not to 
mop their heads and necks as this is low. 

“What will you drink” uttered Gerald 
politely to Selia. 

“What is smart?” asked she very low. 

“Oh you had better have a coktale” replyed 
he “as that is all ladys drink just at present,” 
and so he ordered one, but Selia made a 
mistake and let the cherry at the bottom of the 
little tubby glass into her mouth and so had 
to put the stone out. Rupert frowned on her 
a little for this, and she saw that the elegant 
brothers had left their cherry alone uneaten. 
She made note of this for the future. 

“You’ll be wanting to change wont you” 
now wispered Gerald, who was looking rather 
lively. Selia took the hint and went up to her 

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apartment, not knowing in deuce what she 
should wear out of the many attires concealed 
within the drawers there. 

To her surprise, as she entered the room, a 
small squabby woman in black with black 
velvet and some white frills in her hair rose 
from a seat by the window. 

“I am Madames new maid” this person 
said with a nice bow of respect, “my name is 
Scrogg. What would Madame like to wear.” 

This vision so took' away our herione’s 
breath that she hardly new what to say for a 
moment, then laughing to herself as she guest 
what it was, and thought of all that it meant to 
be a rich man’s pet, she turned coldly aside 
and wispered something to the new maid who 
went at once to the proper draw and drew 
forth what was needful. 

Selia was a modest girl and had not been 
used to undressing before folks, but knew that 
it had to be done and summoning her 

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strength she gave herself up to be divested of 
her attire, and arrayed anew in purest white 
suitable for her secret errand. 

“A more simpel mode for the hair?” sug¬ 
gested Scrogg who was very nifty. Selia 
nodded as she guest this was better. 

Fresh as paint and smelling a little of some¬ 
thing Scrogg had sprinkled at her on leaving, 
Selia descended once more to the waiting 
Majpottels who sat each with chin on stick, 
leaving Scrogg to tidy away which is what a 
maid largefy is for and saves a heap of time. 

In her heart Selia was not quite sure 
whether Scrogg was an offspring of the 
Majpottels minds or whether a pretty atten¬ 
tion of her dear Harolds so she said nothing. 
And as a matter of fact it was Gerald who had 
done it, knowing she needed a woman’s care, 
and he had got Scrogg at great cost from a 
Lord, for he too in his way was one to stick at 
nothing. 


98 


—m—« n—at—w—an—im—im—im^—ini—oit—w—mi—mi——ira—nu—mi—nn—ira^im-* 

CHAPTER TEN 


I t was quite late in fact it was almost eight 
when Selia came back and tho she knew 
she had done no wrong she felt a little sly 
as she quickly slipped up the hotel stares, 
gazed on by the usual knot of folk who hung 
around to get a peep of her and Harold in the 
hotel lounge. She panted into the eating 
apartment. No one. So she popped up into 
her room where Scrogg sat eating a sand¬ 
wich, and got off her white which was now 
dashed, and Scrogg fluffed her hair out 
archly, and put her into a evening gown, 
making her tuck her vest straps under her 
arms and expose a great deal too much or so 
she felt but Scrogg said no it had to be so. 
Scrogg then told her one or two things which 

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opened her eyes. But she affected to hear 
nothing altho really it soaked in. 

After a gaze in the mirror which pleased her 
as she looked quite like a lady by now with 
waved hair and a sleek traily gown of black 
with lace streamers hanging, and all her neck 
and front and half her back bare, she sailed 
from the room as Scrogg told her a rather dif- 
frent walk is needed in the evening much 
more snake-like. Entering once more the 
eating-apartment, she found the white-hatted 
chef alone, altho’ the table was set. 

“Where is Mr. Withersq” said she. 

“I am afraid he is not well” the chief replied 
“he entered a little while ago, with pale look, 
and went away again.” 

Like a hen robbed of her young Selia 
darted to the room of her Harold. There 
spread on the imense wooden bed with four 
posts, lay her devestated Harold, and the 
blinds were down. 


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Tiptoeing in “What is it, what is it” she 
cried, “Have you written too much?” 

“It is not that,” came the mournful voice of 
our hero from the bed, “it is worse. I am a 
ruined man.” 

“Oh, Harold!” gasped the distracted Selia 
in dismay. 

A great groan burst from his brest. To¬ 
gether they sobbed a while. 

“Come” said Selia at last “I command you 
tell me what it is. Are you married in secret?” 

“No, not so bad as that perhaps, because it 
can be cured.” 

“Are you going to prison? Are you mad?” 

“No, no” sniveled the wretched man. “I 
cant tell you.” 

“Dont say the money has gone!” 

“Ah no” cried he of a sudden sitting up at 
the mere idear, “ah no! I think we shall yet 
win, but it is a bad mess I am in.” 

And so he sobbed out his sad story. 

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During the while she had been away that 
day who should Harold meet but the head 
poet of the limerick class from the school of 
poetry and they had been to have a quick one 
together. Falling into talk as men will they 
had begun to exchange the latest tales, some 
not too nice, and indeed most of what Harold 
had brought with him from the lower world 
but he thought that the limerick poet would 
not mind as poets always like low life. He 
had told him a couple of good ones, and as it 
happened they were both about sport. 

“I thought something was up” moaned the 
unhappy man, “for he gave me a very funny 
look. And as we were to come out, as we 
stood with our toothpicks on the step, he made 
a fishy excuse to pop off for a minute. When 
he came back he said there was a man he 
would like me to meet, so we went in the new 
car. It was a house out of Oxford St., which 
I thought strange, still as I was having a sigar 

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I thought perhaps it was that made me a bit 
nervy. Imagine my woe when we entered and 
I then found myself alone and defenseless 
with . . . what do you think?” 

“Lie down dear Harold and dont get 
excited” Selia said altho she was all agogg 
herself. “What was it? Cardsharpers?” 

“Oh, no” sighed he, “it was the smell that 
told me almost before I was within, like floor- 
polish and cough-drops mixed and a bit of gin 
thrown in for sport. No, it was a doctors, one 
of the costly kind with carpets on the floor and 
carving instruments in glass cases.” 

“A doctor!” screamed Selia. “Have you 
then an ilness?” And she rapidly mopped 
odor cologne on to his brow cuasing him to 
sneze which eased him. 

“Well it is a kind of ilness but very odd and 
you will not catch it” he said. “And I think it 
■was a trick tho’ meant well by the limerick- 
poet as you will see.” 


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“How so?” said Selia very bold for sKe 
would have tore his enemys in half. 

“Well to cut a long story short, I have got 
a kind of hidden passion which is nawing at 
my heart, and that is why I cannot write any 
more poems.” 

“What did the Doctor do to you” urged 
she eager to get to the point and hear the 
worst, “did he operate?” 

“No he was very kind” said Harold 
propping himself up a bit against his pillows 
“and it took me a long while to get the hang 
of it all. He told me I have been under a 
strane and feared I was ill and wished to ask 
me a few questions. Said he leaning back and 
making cats cradles on his pink fingers, have 
you anything on your mind?” 

So of course says I, “No.” 

At that he shot me a serpentine glance. 

“Now my good man” said he “just let your 
mind ease out and answer me at random.” 


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As I was feeling a bit mad I thought it best s 
to humor him as I feared otherwise I might 
give him a smartish tap for you know what I 
am when roused.” 

“Bat” said he to me, simple like. 

“Ball” said I to humour him. 

“Out” says he cunning. 

“Over” says I to catch him, and this got 
him for a moment. Then he dartled to a little 
exercise book and made a mark in it on some 
squares, and rang his bell at which a secere- 
tary came in, and mutered with her, till she 
went out. A nice girl in a white blouse too.” 

“Ha” said Selia as tho’ stung. “But what 
were they at.” 

“Well dearest you see it is a new disease. 
The doctors being hard up between you and 
me and the gatepost because the herd are not 
dying off so much as they did.” 

“No I’ve noticed that, there’s hardly ever 
a nice funeral nowadays,” said Selia. 

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“Well and what with that and having no 
more apendicles to cut out they had to be at 
something fresh/’ he continued. 

“I see” said Selia who as will have been 
noticed had growed almost meek in these latter 
days and sat merely stroking her Harolds 
hand in pity. 

“So now they declare in their bold way that 
all clever folk have a brane sickness on the 
lines of a drain stoppage (if you w r ill excuse 
me) and he was artful-like pumping me to try 
and find out what had stopped the drain.” 

“Oh!” With a yell Selia lept from the bed. 

“Calm yourself Selia” said her Harold, pre¬ 
paring to rise from his couch, “for you know 
what bad form it is to show emoshun. And 
all these adventers of mine are very smart in¬ 
deed.” 

“Smart? How smart?” snapt she quivering 
with distres partly from the snub she had had. 

“Sit down dear Selia” he said with a cool 


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Splashing into Society 

drorl, “and I will tell you how for you know 
we must let nothing get past us even if it is 
only a sickness.” 

“Too true” she said subsidising somewhat 
and becoming seated though at a distance. 

“Well I think this must be very like the 
latest craze of all” he said passing his hand 
over his brow and settling again on the bed, 
“though come too soon in my career as it is 
more fitted to those who are played out 
whereas I am only at the post as you might 
say and in my first flush. Still there is no 
saying but it is smart.” 

So Selia came and sat again on the bed’s 
side while her love got it off his chest which is 
always a good thing even in high life. 

“Well this old meddiko kept on at me and 
on and on and I began to get sleepy because 
it was hot and there was a blue-bottel buzzing. 
I do not know what I said but he was very in¬ 
terested. Suddenly he sprang up. ‘Eureka’ 

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he cried, and began pacing up and down and 
down and up till I went quite swimmy. So 
then it all came out.” 

4 ‘And what was it” inquired Selia all agag. 

“It was cricket.” 

“What was?” 

“My sickness.” 

“How so? You were sick with cricket. 
What cricket? Come do not play any tosh 
with me.” 

“It is no tosh” said Harold simpering a 
little with pride. “I am the first case. Of 
course between you and me it is somewhat 
tosh. Still they are writing a article on me 
called ‘Sport and Poetry: a Sycoanalsis of 
Genius’ to prove that I am suffering from a 
sort of squashed wish to play cricket just as 
Shakespere suffered because his wish to play 
tennis was squashed as he had not got the 
price.” 


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“Oh I see” said Selia which she now knew 
whas a useful thing to say. 

“Dont interrupt” said he giving himself 
one or two airs “it is all due to the squashed 
wish. It i: quite true I have said to myself 
lately that now the summer is come it is a pity 
I am a rich man because I cannot now very 
well play with the boys as I did, and I dreamt 
a bit about the good old times, and thought of 
the ball I left in a box under my bed. Still, 
that was all it was and we ought to be glad it 
was no worse for it seems some men suffer 
from squashed wishes of a kind it would little 
befit me to tell you of.” 

“Go on” said she “I’ve got you now. I read 
of it in the Sunday papers.” 

“Indeed” quoth he “I did not know you 
were so advansed. It all goes to show how 
truly I chose you for mine own dearest 
Selia.” 


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Splashing into Society 


“Hity tity” quoth she somewhat nettled, 
“not so much stiffness even if you have a 
squashed wish. You need not be so uppish 
towards me.” 

“Indeed must I” corrected he “for if we are 
not stiff in private we may make a slip before 
the world, and that will do no one any good, 
will it?” 

Springing from the bed now, he went to the 
mirror and administered a little patting to his 
attire to settle himself after being couched, 
then pressing a kiss on the nape of his dear, he 
prepared to lead her from the room. 

“Come, fair” said he, this he had overheard 
at the first party and kept for use “we have 
lobster for dinner, so let’s make a hop.” 

They entered the dining-apartment where 
the chef had patiently waited keeping the 
lobster on ice till needed, and they sat down 
and tucked in, pondering within a while the 
new sickness of Harold. 


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“And is your squashed wish cured now?” 
said she at last, wondering what form it might 
take. 

“Yes thank you it is greatly better, for it 
is only a matter of letting the back come to the 
front as in telling the doctor of it, and then all 
is eased.” 

“I see” said she “and I am glad you will not 
play cricket for of a truth I think it is a little 
common.” 

And as they had now finished they wiped 
their mouths, and he helped her rise, and they 
went by their blue car to the opera where Mr. 
Withersq had retained a box. 

The opera of course was already on, and as 
they were both more than a little tired and 
could not chatter as much as the fashion re¬ 
quired Mr. Withersq hired a small gramafone 
from the box office which they plaiced on the 
ground between their two gold chairs in their 
regal box which was trimmed with red plush, 

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Splashing into Society 

and this they put on from time to time in the 
dull parts, which drew much attention as it 
could be quite clearly heard all over the 
theater, during the softer parts of the music, 
which is the idea and much simpler than hav¬ 
ing to keep on jawing. Because it is not 
smart to sit silent at the opera. 

And when the hero had killed the heroine 
and sang a long song over her corpse, they got 
up and went out and the crowd clapped a good 
bit to see them go. And so they went home to 
bed. 


112 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


T he next morning Scrogg brought 
Selia her morning tea and told her it 
would be best to have a bath. 

“They are made very pleasant now Madam” 
she explained, as she threw all Selias close into 
the tall basket behind the washstand, “what 
with bath salts and animal sponges.” Selia in 
surprise propped herself on elbow in the 
couchy bed saying “Do they then have a bath 
every day with clean underwear,” for even she 
knew it was no good to put dirty close on a 
clean body. 

“Indeed yes” said Scrogg with a kind 
smile. “My last lady was very particular, she 
would never dream to have her bath without 
her special frog sponge, so I made bold to buy 
you one yesterday in the form of a pi jeon 

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Splashing into Society 

which you will find in its place in the bath 
racket.” 

“Ho” said Selia “I thought such things 
were only for the young.” 

“Dear no” said Scrogg departing with the 
towels, “all things are animal now including 
electric lights.” 

And so Selia had a bath first however re¬ 
calling Scrogg. 

“Go and tell Mr. Withersq to have a bath 
every day too” she thoughtfully said “for I 
fear he is not quite up to that yet.” 

“Very good Madam” said Scrogg and went, 
and so Selia tripped into the bathroom and 
soaped well all over with the sponge which was 
like a pi jeon with a beak and wool eyes and 
when she had had a good swill and a brisk dry 
she felt so strong she ran out and banged all 
the doors all down one side of the corridor for 
as will be remembered she occupied a whole 
floor to herself. 


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Splashing into Society 

And after a good breakfast with her 
Harold both of them reading Harold’s own 
newspaper propped up on the toast-machine, 
she departed on a mysterous errand to the 
Majpottels whereat Mr. Withersq made a 
sorry face, still as he was really very busy in 
the mornings he didnt mind as much as he 
looked, and set himself to writing his news¬ 
paper, which he now did every day as he 
thought it a good sport to tell others how to 
get on, and smiled up his sleeve to think how 
few would have Unckle Burts at the send-off, 
still it was a good wheeze as long as the craze 
for him lasted and made more money than 
ever. He was a little bored with it already 
however, for all though of low birth Mr. 
Withersq like all the truly great bored easily. 
And from time to time he caught himself 
thinking of cricket but not so much as he had 
done as the doctor had already given him some 
unthinking medesine, and each time he did 

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think he wrote a poem and they were soon to 
be printed in a book. 

At about three Selia came tripping back a 
bit red in the face and rather secret, and burst 
into Mr. Withersq room where he was eating 
a orange, with a noisy kiss. 

“Huzzah” cried she “I think I shall yet 
beat the band. But what are those smutty 
objects near your ears?” 

“Those are my new side-whiskers” replied 
her Harold unctuously “for all poets have 
them.” 

“You dog” she said “ycm are cutting a 
figure these days arent you?” And with these 
words she rushed away to Scrogg to be attired. 

At four she was ready in a slippery creation 
of black with no arms to it but it was not an 
evening dress, and a nose veil bedangling from 
a ravished shapoo woven of the hares of horses. 

“Let us sally” said she, gazing at him and 
he gazed at her with pride for she looked very 
much better. 


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“You are a treat” he said gallantly so they 
went clown thro’ the hall which was worse 
than ever with a dense crowd more staring 
than ever to behold them, and out into their 
blue car en route for the Countess tea. 

When they got there it was a little house 
but smart done up in black and white paint 
with orange stuff for curtains, and lobellia in 
boxes round the windows and two marbel 
statues of little boys before the door, and they 
both had curly hair. 

The chauffeur rang the bell. ITow different 
it was to when both had been poor. They felt 
it. They strode within into a hall with bead 
curtains and thro’ to a room at whose door 
stood the Countess herself with welcoming 
hand. 

Air. Withersq had a bit of trouble to get his 
hat off in time. 

“Ah good afternoon, how sweet of you to 
come” cried their hostess. 

“Not at all” Selia said “we were only too 

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pleased to visit you.” And they went into the 
room. There was a lot of folks there eating off 
plates in their laps and all murmured and 
gazed to see the heroes of the hour enter, so 
Selia and Mr. Withersq sat down and had 
some plates passed to them and stretched out 
for what food they could find lying about. 

Near by Mr. Withersq sat a youngish lady 
with plentiful ginger hair and robed in violet 
with out-shooting lips and an ernest apper- 
ence. 

“Do tell me” she burbled in a rich voice 
“how you write such beautiful poems?” 

But Mr. Withersq who had just tucked a 
cress sandwich in his mouth could not say 
much only growling in reply at which no one 
seemed cross but all present cooed and 
moaned, saying “Ah how simple he is” and 
“How true” for it was very much like the 
first party and “How true” was still the 


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fashion, like red hats sometimes appear and 
are worn awhile and then drop out. 

“He had poetry in him all the while” said 
Selia “but it did not come out.” 

So now the Countess came to sit beside her, 
and pawed at her hand in love. 

“Do you think the great man would come 
to my little riverside home one day” uttered 
she, “do please dear lady beg darling Mr. 
Withersq to come down to my little party at 
Maidenhead next week. There will not be 
much to entertain in fact we have only got two 
funny people coming at present but we have 
an excellent gramafone and perhaps the boats 
would give him some new idears.” 

All listened. Many of the ladys were 
chewing on strings of coloured beads hung 
about their necks and their ears waved for the 
answer. 

“Have you got any Harry Lauders” said 


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Splashing into Society 


Selia for fun “for he is veiy partial to them.” 
Her Harold was making warning faces to her 
but she would not heed. Oh what an error. 
You could hear the brick drop. But the 
Countess had tact to give a little snickering 
laugh. 

“Oh I dont think he needs such low things’’ 
said she, “you do not understand. No we have 
only classical music. Nevertheless we should 
be very glad to see him as I have rather a repu¬ 
tation for my parties in fact I never have any 
but the pick of socierty in my presence and I 
should like to add dear Mr. Withersq to my 
list.” 

“Thank you” said Mr. Withersq not quite 
seeing why she so had her knife in his love 
“we will come.” 

Selia sat biting a cake to show she did not 
care. 

Most of the guests who were numerous but 
all ladys had put their cups down and now 

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Splashing into Society 

were figetting about talking and poking into 
all the Countesses things fingering the cur¬ 
tains and picking up the ornaments to see if 
the price was still on the bottom, tapping her 
bits of furniture which were all a bit old- 
looking but curious and not so bad for those 
who are too proud to have new objects. Selia 
thought this very rude and sat stiff in despare 
finding the way to success very thorny for 
women as not much notice came her way, as 
when they were not poking about at the things 
in the room they were fusseling round Mr. 
Withersq who sat with a silly smile on his face 
to be the center of attraction. 

But as good luck would have it Selia got her 
own back for as she was a good bit bored she 
got up and said Gooby. Now it is very smart 
to be the first to go as it shows you do not 
think much of where you are, so this was a 
snub and had its effect for the ladys left Mr. 

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Withersq who had mislaid his hat under a 
chair, and came to her to bid adieu. 

“Thanks for coming and now you know the 
way you must come again” said the Countess 
hurrying up and tripping over some lace 
hanging from her arms for she was in a sort of 
dressing gown of pink silk “and wont you 
come to my river party too?” 

“Thanks yes I daresay I shall” said Selia as 
a parting arrow stiffly and stalked out, Mr. 
Withersquash hurrying behind, but kissing his 
hand to the company who smiled sweetly up¬ 
on him. 

When they got in the car Selia sniffed a 
good bit and tried to cry because she was sorry 
for herself but she only managed a very little 
tear, which Mr. Withersq wiped up for her. 

“Do not cry” said he “for those silly cats. 
They have nothing better to do but to try and 
steal a little greatness from such as us. The 
time will come for them to sue for your 

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Splashing into Society 

favors as they do mine and then we shall see.” 
So she cheered up and made him go and buy 
her a string of coloured beads too in a shop on 
the way home, and when they got back she 
departed to the Turkish baths to have a 
massage for she would need all her strength in 
the trial to come. 


123 


~mi- 


-wi— 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


T he blue-coat chauffeur tucked Mr. 
Withersq and his Selia within the car 
which spead on greased wheels of 
lightning through the western of London and 
out into the more rustical parts where there 
were trees. Quick oh quick they moved and 
Selia’s heart came in her mouth several times 
with people and no small quantity of dogs 
they shaved past. 

Twilight had settled when they drew up 
with a good toot on their grunty hooter at the 
white wicker gate of the country home of the 
Countess on the evening of the proper day as 
they had somewhat artfully arranged only to 
arrive in time for dinner. 

As well as they could see squinting through 
the darkness it was a very low house and very 

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Splashing into Society 


broad like a tennis club but of course more 
grand looking very nice with nice smelling 
flowers about and two white peacocks strolling. 
on the lawn. But alas to their dismay no one 
was at home. Only a little page-boy and he 
was a stuttering one, and had some trouble to 
get out that the family was on the river in their 
boat, so that Mr. Withersq gave him a six¬ 
pence and let him go. 

“Dear me” said he waving away the 
chauffeur who took off the car, “we are nicely 
sold and shall get no grub.” 

“Yes indeed” said Selia very crossly “I 
think we had better go home again” for she 
had a vacancy. 

“Not so” cried he “we have not come so far 
for nothing. Come with me.” 

Now Selia was more than a bit tired and 
only followed him because she hoped to be fed 
rebuffing his kindly arm, she tottered on her 
high heels beside him in smothering rage. 

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Splashing into Society 


But past experiences had taught our hero. 
“Fear not” he said “you will be well filled 
yet, for Unckle Burt has not died for noth¬ 
ing.” 

And he led her through the dark lanes 
under the creepy trees towards the spottling 
lights of a near village. Selia was a good bit 
afraid as she feared to step on a frog or some 
other vermin and went picking her way. Still 
she had a pluck and kept moving only wishing 
herself elsewhere. 

Soon they struck a cosy little pub where a 
man was hissing outside over the feet of a 
horse which he was washing. Selia looked at 
the horse which exchanged her glance but 
Air. Withersq looked in the pub. He came 
out in a short moment to find his sweet 
leaning against the animal. 

“All is well,” said he, “our party is close at 
hand.” 

“Nasty lot they might have waited for us,” 

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said she. “For I am footsore and have empty 
rumblings also.” 

“Excuse me, sir,” said the horse’s man, 
coming up under its stomach, “but there is a 
nice little ham and beef shop a few doors 
away.” 

Casting a cold look on this fellow, Selia 
took the talk up. “Show the gentleman the 
way,” said she, “and pop me on the horse, for 
I must have a sit down and do not care to de¬ 
mean myself by entering a public house.” 

The horse, hearing his name mentioned, 
turned to have a stare, but she cared little for 
that, knowing to be firm with the dumb crea¬ 
tures is best, so she made a severe face at it. 

“Show a leg,” cried Harold gallantly, and 
with a good grasp on her, and the man push¬ 
ing too, they got her up on the horse. 

“That’s better,” she said, getting comfort¬ 
able, and finding it a nice broad beast as she 
had hoped. So Mr. Withersq and the man 

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disapeared, leaving Selia bravely seated on 
the steed, which champed its bit somewhat, 
but every time it moved she cried “Whoo!” 
and it obeyed her, to the surprise of some 
yokels who peeked forth from the pub. 
Before long Mr. Withers and the man came 
back, the latter bearing some paper bags. 

“Hurrah, I have food!” cried Harold, “and 
I am feeling most poetical. This good man 
will give you a lift on this horse to the Coun¬ 
tess’s boat, so off we go.” 

At this the little procession set off, but first 
Selia cried “Oh pray give me a bite for I am 
perishing.” At this Mr. Withersq rustled in a 
bag and drew forth a sandwich and passed it 
up to her. So off they went in the darkness of 
the night, Selia on the horse, and Mr. 
Withersq holding one of her feet to steady her, 
while she chewed a rather mysterious sand¬ 
wich, not being able to see what it was, and 
bumping a good bit on the heaving animal. 

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The horse’s man led the way down another 
lane, followed by some rude cheers from the 
pub. Before long they saw water, and in a 
few moments drew a halt. 

“Coo-ee!” howled the man. 

From out a large, white place looming with 
myriad twinkling lights an answering voice 
cried “Coo-ee!” 

“Is it another house?” said Selia. “I dont 
see no boat.” 

“It is the boat,” cried the horse’s man. 

Lo! on the river’s edge was a great boat like 
a steamer, bedecked with fairy lamps, and at 
the sound of our hero’s arrival many voices 
noised out and forms were seen on the deck. 
Never had Selia beheld such a vision as this 
grand boat. 

“Well, it is just like a house,” cried she. 

“It is a houseboat,” said Harold, “for I read 
it up in an etiquette book.” 

Oh how Selia laughed to hear this! “So 

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Splashing into Society 

that is where all your stiff new ways come 
from, is it!” jested she, though not so coyly as 
she would, as her horse was sipping a little of 
the river, and it was hard to sit on it so slop¬ 
ing. 

“Ha, welcome!” the voice of the Countess 
was then heard. “Come aboard, pray! We 
were expecting you to supper, but still, better 
late than never.” 

So Selia dropped from the horse, jolting 
herself a good bit, and together with Mr. 
Withersq mounted a small ladder from the 
river’s edge up the side of this magnificent 
boat, and so arrived safe on the deck, at which 
a throng, bobbing up from all directions, 
seized on them with merry hand shakings, and 
cooings of delight, for they had been given up, 
and their arrival proved a welcome diversion, 
and Lipstick barked madly his eyes more 
polished than ever. The Countess who was in 
a tight dress of black beads sewn on stuff like 

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a serpent grasped warmly their hands and 
seemed more glad than before for no doubt 
their fame had spread more and so she 
thought them worth her while. 

“Let me introduce you to the folk” she said 
kindly, motioning to the group of about six 
behind her. 

“This is the well-known Mr. Bross” she 
continued picking on a pear-shaped gent with 
plump legs in white trousers and a short 
evening jacket, so he came up smiling with 
blandness. 

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Poet” said he 
and the Countess wispered to Selia “He is 
rather an amusing man we have asked him 
ten times before it is a pity he is nearly 
finished.” 

“How is that” said Selia bowing to him. 

“Oh he is no good at much but foreign 
langwages” said the Countess merrily, “and 
he only knows fifteen. You see as he is not 

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very high bom we expect him to amuse us, 
and he sings very well so he has to burst into 
song after breakfast on Sundays to take away 
the rather chilly feeling on Sunday mornings. 
As he has already sung in ten different 
langwages and of course we wouldn’t like the 
same one twice, he only has five more week¬ 
ends to come.” 

The langwage-singer sighed at this no 
doubt overhearing, and gave way to a greyish- 
coloured fellow reeking a little of wine. 
“This is Mr. Panter, you must have heard of 
him” said the Countess. “He makes reputa¬ 
tions.” 

“Is that so” said Selia who was keeping her 
end up very well, “what does he make them 
of?” 

“Ah dear girl you do not understand” 
simpered the other lady, “we always ask him 
down for when one gets a bit stale of people 
and they have not done anything in the way of 

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a stunt lately, he makes up such sweet little 
stories about everyone that they become quite 
nice again, and for some he makes up entire 
reputations for a consideration, and they live 
on them.” 

“Oh I see” said Selia “it is a business.” 

“Naturally” said the Countess kindly “for 
they all want to live you know and as cats have 
the artfulness to live by being cats and so 
getting milk and meat, so many are compelled 
to live by having reputations which causes 
them to be asked about and fed. Mr. Panter 
has the most magnificent set of offices near the 
British Museum.” 

“I must remember him” said Selia “he 
might come in useful some day when we 
want to be noticed.” 

“Tush” twittered her friend “Mr. Panter 
leaves ladys to look after their own reputa¬ 
tions, dont you sir?” and this remark drew a 
laugh from a priestly looking damsel with 

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many ropes of pearls about her elegant long 
neck, lolling in a deckchair near their feet, so 
Selia was now introduced to her and as well as 
she could grasp this lady did nothing but be 
an earl’s sister because of course if you are 
nobel that is enough and saves many pains. 

“I hear” said the earls sister who was most 
languid and archy in her way of speaking and 
holding herself, “that Mr. Bross is learning 
Welsh.” 

“Dear me” said Selia “now he will be able 
to come again for another week-end more.” 

“Certenly not” said the Countess proudly, 
“this is not a political house-boat, we are 
artists and I do not think we could bear Welsh 
after breakfast even on Sundays. I must 
speak to him and try to urge him to learn 
something else.” 

So she got up and went off to do so. 

Meanwhile Mr. Withersq had rather sidled 
away towards a nice little girl in a cream frock 

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Splashing into Society 


very low and fluffy, and had talked to her and 
she had opened wide great eyes of amaze to 
him to hear so great a poet speak ordinary. 
He was now muttering something with many 
muffled laughs to a very tall oldish man in a 
suit of pearl grey silk, and munching a fish 
sandwich which from time to time he dipped 
in a glass of champagne he had had brought 
him by a menial attired as a sailor. 

From the chair in which she had sunk 
Selia pawed at her Harold’s near trouser. So 
he passed her down some food which she 
wolfed up. Then as she was tired and could 
not make out much of the various persons 
around who were all smoking long cigarettes 
and bv their talk seemed to have endless little 
private jokes of their own, she went off to bed, 
which was down some steep brass-tipped 
stairs with a rope bannister, into the bowels of 
the boat. Imagine her surprise when she 

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opened her room door to find Scrogg knitting 
a sock within. 

“Goodday” cried Scrogg springing up and 
ready to unfasten her, and “Goodevening” 
said Selia stifling her yawn with a smile “how 
did ever you come here Scrogg?” 

“I thought you would like me” said Scrogg 
humbly, “so I came up the river in a little row¬ 
boat I keep for emergencies.” 

“I see” said Selia “that was very nice of 
you I’m sure. I am very tired though.” 

“No wonder madame” said the maid 
throwing her pink Greecian nightdress over 
her head nimbly, “with so many clever 
people about, for the Countess only has the 
first class cream at her boat parties.” 

“Hurrah” cried Selia “what a funny 
pillow!” and lo the bed she jumped in was 
built to the wall like a real boat’s bed and her 
pillow was like a life-buoy but made in 
feathers with a white linen cover and frilled 

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Splashing into Society 


with real lace. Scrogg then quickly fixed up a 
hammock across the little room, under the 
round window, and went to bed in it, and thus 
to the sound of the slapping waves mistress 
and maid snoozed while Mr. Withersq talked 
of his poetry to the company on deck, still all 
swigging champagne till the early hours. 

Selia slept late next day for the fresh air 
made her drowsy and only peeped out of her 
bed in time to hear in the distance the loud 
end of Mr. Bross’s Sunday morning song and 
the applause after it. Scrogg then entered 
with a tray of rolls and coffee. 

“The Countess asked me to tell you the 
song was a great success” she said with 
her usual curtsey, “it was in Yiddish this 
week.” 

“Oh” said Selia rubbing her eyes up for the 
day, “how clever!” for she unluckily did not 
know where this was spoken. When she had 
just finished up her breakfast a thunderous 

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Splashing into Society 

knock sounded on her door and Scrogg 
opened. 

“Dear me” said this good servant, for who 
should stand there but Mr. Withersq in a 
grand navy bathing costume embroidered 
with anchors and wearing canvas boots. Selia 
modestly hid in her bed. 

“None of that now” said he “all is al fresco 
here, so nip up. You will find a bathing 
costume under the pillow, and I give you five 
minutes.” 

So with a good grin he withdrew leaving 

Selia to spring up and quickly dress in the 

dinkv suit which as he had said she would find 
•/ 

under the lifebuoy pillow. She shrank a little 
from the eyes of the men and also swanked a 
bit too because of the Countess who was in a 
pea-green suit, and the Earls sister in mauve 
and the nice little girl in orange, but Selia was 
all in black like Annette Kellermann. 

“Hurrah” quoth she as she appeared and 

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they all cheered also for Selia was indeed a fine 
girl and Mr. Withersq patted his own back 
and jumped for joy to see her, knocking over 
a pot of flowers ornamenting the boat. The 
water below sparkled and looked a bit cold, 
the birds sang and the trees were nice and 
green. 

“One two three” said the Countess and at 
three such a splash occurred as all the party 
threw themselves recklessly into the water, 
followed by Lipstick the dog. Selia felt happy 
to find them flesh and blood after all and 
Harold trod the water in glee. They all had a 
merry sport, and Selia raced the gentleman 
who had been in grey silk but now in striped 
drawers, ending by ducking him. 

When the swim was over they all climbed 
very dripping on the deck to be received by 
menials with hot towels and so away to their 
rooms to dress, after which lunch arrived. It 
was a splendid repast with salmon and not 

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Splashing into Society 


tinned either, and after lunch Mr. Withersq 
recited a new poem he had made that very 
day, which pleased them all very much and he 
got a stamp from the Earls sister to post it to 
the King, and Panter slapped him on the 
shoulder and swore never to forget him. 

True to their rule Mr. Withersq and Selia 
prepared to depart early and amid much 
goodbyes climbed over the side and down the 
ladder to terra firma where their car awaited 
them, and waved themselves off, while Scrogg 
meanwhile was seen to get into her little boat 
and soon vanished round the corner of the 
water rowing hard. 

As Selia sank back into the car with a part¬ 
ing wave to the boat, Mr. Withersq caught 
her in a firm kiss. 

“Tush” she said “have done.” But she 
was not so vexed as she seemed for she 
loved him but of course she still had to be a 
bit cov. 


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Splashing into Society 


“I think we are doing very well” said he 
smacking his lips, and emerging a great cigar 
from his pocket. “Bross gave me this and I 
think he will consent to come to our parties 
when we have a house.” 

Selia blushed at his meaning glance at this 
word, and then said “No doubt he will be glad 
to dear Harold. And it will not be so long 
now for next week I hope to show them the 
stuff I am made of and have my photo in the 
weekly papers, which is fame.” 

So hand in hand with Mr. Withersq puffing 
the big cigar they glided back to London and 
their hotel. 


141 


LAST CHAPTER 


I t is now the folowing Saterday. 

Meanwhile the brothers Majpottel had 
not been idel for they had wangeled it as 
well as they could* dropped a hint here and a 
word there in the usuel way and kept expecta¬ 
tions up to to scratch for the great day of 
Selia’s tussel with fate* and this was to come off 
that very after noon. 

Selia was lying on her second floor at the 
Grand Palace and being swilled down by a lot 
of ladys and girls that had come round to look 
after her like boxers are done to, and they 
rubbed and slapped and jumped her about and 
flipped her with towels and squooshed water 
on her till her arms were as hard as nails and 
so were her legs too which was lucky as in 
tennis you want both. 

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Splashing into Society 


When they had done with her they helped 
her to dress and pouder and then attended her 
like handmaids to the taxi that was waiting, as 
Mr. Withersquash had bought one for her to 
use. Mr. Withersq who was now wearing the 
special poets badge in his coat was waiting for 
her. 

“My hour has come” she wispered to him, 
she felt a bit bad inside at the idear. “Have 
pluck” he wispered back “and then we can 
get married!” 

So off she drove to Lords which is a large 
park so called because all the nuts go there to 
see the games going on. When they got there 
there was a dense throttling crowd and they 
went in and had a look round to get their 
breath before starting. Where they had got 
to was the wrong part among the crowd so 
they pushed on through to the socierty part. 
Selia was arrayed in a cordion pleeted white 
robe with shoes and stockings to match and 

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Mr. Withersq wore his best day suit and shiny 
topper in fine stile and all made way for them 
with murmurs of praise so on they stept very 
saucy. 

When they came to the socierty part which 
had a rope round and went to go in an haughty 
dame sniffled over them and would have 
stopped them specially Selia. 

“And pray what are you up to my good 
girl?” said she very nasty, but just then their 
old friend the admiral came leaping up now 
in a white garb, and said: 

“Way for the Head Poet and Lady!” 

So the haughty dame had to make way and 
felt very sore put down no doubt. 

After shaking hands with the admiral they 
stept on to where the King and Queen had just 
arrived and said goodday to them which drew 
a cry of surprise from all present to see them 
so well known by the Highest in the Land. 

His Magesty called out, 

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“The Lady Selia wants to beat the world 
with her skill at tennis. Who will take her 
on?” 

And Rupert and Gerald Majpottel now 
came tripping up and cried “Hi! This way 
for the lady tennis champions! Anyone 
want to try their strength? Walk up and 
try to beat the Lady Selia!” This made the 
company laugh very harty to hear the 
brothers go on in this way, which was their 
little joke and did a lot of good. For the head 
lady tennis players who had been lounging 
idly in chairs behind the King and Queen now 
sprang fiercely forward on hearing this cry of 
the Majpottels and said “Here we are!” and 
there were three of them. 

Meantime the crowd was crowding some¬ 
thing awful all round the socierty part and 
staring and the newspaper men were taking 
photos and scribbling in books about it. Oh 
what a moment! Almost for a tick Selia 


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Splashing into Society 


wished Mr. Withersquashes Unckle Burt had 
never passed away, but then girding herself 
up, and blushing a little at the roar of cheers 
that rose when the crowd saw that she was a 
sport, she tossed off her hat with a proud toss, 
and summoned for a bat. 

“Come on then!” she yelled to the head lady 
tennis players. 

“Not so fast!” cried the Queen kindly “for 
there are three to one against which we all 
know is wrong.” 

So one of the three head tennis ladys who 
all had medals on their chests because of all 
the games they had won, said she would take 
sides with Selia. And some of the socierty 
folks snigered and said “tosh” for they did not 
know Selia and bemeaned her being as they 
well knew only humbel of birth for she had got 
her name up owing to having got on so lately. 

Out on the grassy sward she stept swash¬ 
ing her tennis bat while Mr. Withersquash 
fondly gazed on her from beside royalty. 

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Splashing into Society 


“Pom!” the game began and a ball came 
over. And “pom!” Selia hit it back and so she 
went on. Nothing could get past her. Oh 
she was very clever at tennis was Selia though 
her light had hitherto been under a bushel. 

Love thirty, love forty, game, so it went on 
and on for ages, and then when at the last the 
lady partner playing with Selia got a bit waxy 
because she never had a chance to touch a ball 
and began grumbling, Selia took her on too 
and smashed her although she was on the 
same side of the net, and smashed the two 
ladys on the other side and smashed them all 
and they could hardly stand they were so tired 
and cross. 

“Hurrah, hurrah” cried Mr. Withersquash 
from the socierty part, and the King and 
Queen stood up to have a better look and the 
crowd roared and the brothers Majpottel fell 
on each others necks and cried very loud and 
wet for joy they were so glad and in fact it 
was a proper sight you never saw the like of 

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until at last Selia threw up her tennis bat in 
the air and cried very loud: 

“Have you had enough?” 

And the two lady players on the other side 
of the net and the one lady partner who had 
also been beaten although a partner said all 
together: “Yes!” and casting down the medals 
from off their dishonorable bosoms they slunk 
away and were seen no more and Selia was left 
triumphant on the field which was a neat little 
plot of green amidst all the cheering multi¬ 
tude, and the Queen bekoned and she went 
back up into the socierty part, hanging her 
head with modestv. 

“Cheers” said the King kindly as she strode 
up, and the Queen took her hand and patted 
it and said “You are made of good stuff my 
dear and will make a good man happy” at 
which she made a meaning sign to Mr. 
Withersq. 

With a deep blush Selia slopped into his 

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arms and he placed a kiss on her lip at which 
all present cried aloud and smiled and were 
delited to see a romance of the kind. 

“I hereby announce that my Head Poet 
and his young lady Selia are engaged” then 
said the King stroking his beard and he was 
the first to shake hands with the honorable 
and lucky Harold. 

Just then a page boy stepped up with a 
great bouquet in his hands which he laid at 
Selia’s feet. So Mr. Withersq gave him a bob 
and on the bouquet was a little label saying 
“With all good wishes from the boys” so Selia 
knew she had not been forgot by her old 
friends. 

And now let us take leave of Mr. Withersq 
with his Selia in his arms surrounded bv 
royalty and the flower of England’s socierty, 
he the Head Poet and she the Queen of Sport. 
For what more could their hearts desire? 


149 





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